he wears a lonely hair
waiting for my touch
he has long- thin hands
married a guitar
he has a purple scar
bleeding in the dark
he smells like a child
pure sweet and mild
I've followed him so far
singing for his smiles
I've never kissed his lips
neither embraced him
the only way to love him
is singing songs he writes
I'll never change my mind
singing till I die
I love his songs
love his songs
I love his thouthts
love his thouths
he never knows
never knows
how I bury I bury my love to him
I wear a long-black skrit
on his wedding day
his love lies on his bride
I'm only a tool for him
I still tell him lies
never show my pains
I still sing in the quietness
like his purple scar
my roses withered
with only thorns are left
piercing my heart hard
bleeding desprately
chrysanthemum
blooming in my coffin
I wish he could see
sweet smiles on my face
He has his hair a cut
on the day of her suicide
He kisses her purple scar
on her bloody neck
he keeps a secret in his heart
never share with her
but now he wispers in her ears
he says
I feel love from your voice