The Stars I Wrote with Your Name

III. Rolling Times

I used to fill all black ink into fragile, thin white paper
And it would be crumpled in the end of day
Or being thrown somewhere
"It wasn't even good" what I told myself

As day changes, sun to moon, moon to sun;
Helpless, tired body against the wooden chair
Heavy sighs, ohㅡ it wasn't a bad sign
As the time kept passing by, I remember seeing myself smiling
When I remember how pretty you look
Pretty stars all over your cheeks
Lips made by cheery wine
And your presences; as warm as sunshine

Even, in a rolling times
Falling in love with you;
Always been something I feel everyday