Your hair of woven silk.

Your hair of woven silk.

You are standing there with your silky black hair, which required the finest silkworm to weave. Your eyes were stolen from the stars way up high in the sky. Your ruby-red lips are soft and sweet, but I have to ask. I know you come with a fee. I love you, but are you worth the pain and sorrows? Maybe I should come back again and ask tomorrow. When you speak, it's like a sweet melody that plays a tune as the flowers spring up in the month of June. Please tell me what I must do. I think I will leave it up to you. There's nothing else left that I can do. But I love you.