He could be the great lover of mine. From his way of smoking i can tell - The mysterious smoke flows between. With that face you could be a playboy, but darling, he just didn't. He would be the one bending over a wooden desk like a Greek statue, writing love letters to me. Oh he is the best lover, torning himself with hidden sweetness. But what if you toss this wounded body into a sea of aged wine？I suppose there would grow some blue roses with crystal petals.
Oh my lover, hold me in your arms，gently. Just like the way I'm licking your stems, and hum a lullaby.