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|  | | | | | | When I was at elementary,
I delivered a love letter,
from a teacher who loves music,
to a lady who does also.
From her notebook of copies of song,
I read those lines:
Song is water in desert,
is sun in winter...
They didn't hooked up,
instead, another beautiful teacher,
who loves performance too,
See, whoever is an entertainer
can entice a lady easily.
Now I become a messenger again,
I drew a picture of a lady's children,
a token for love, both adults are single,
This recall my childhood,
as if everything is at an early stage.
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