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When cirrus minor appears in the sky, you sing the Nile song high.
While your crying song is over, we have gone up the Khyber.
See, green is the color, Cymbaline, over here and there, just like following some party sequence.
Would you play the main theme for me once again, the one you did at Ibiza Bar?
You shook your head with a smile, let's have more blues.
Why not? Cymbaline, I know the main theme was composed by your ex-girlfriend. Even though I like it so much, you will never play it for me.
So don't be dismayed if you find quicksilver in a Spanish piece of pancake that I will give you after your dramatic theme. You will die in bliss, I am sure.