Day seven and I am eightI stand waiting by your stairs,I don’t understand it myself,Nor where I go, nor what I want!
You walk by, your dress flutters,A waterfall voice: “Good morning!”My heart leaps from my chest,Why does it feel like I will die?
Every day I stand at your gate,Like a trap always set,So that your magical beautyMight suddenly fall into my arms.
How foolish I am acting,I behave like a senseless boy,I don't understand, whenever I lose myself,I have fallen into your trap...
It has caught me and is driving me mad...
