Of the purest blond hair so long
And gentle as her angel wings,
For her, with pain, I sing this song.
Seasons of infatuation,
The hardest love to fall into.
I know I will forever mourn
Until and after life is through.
She was as sweet as Spring's first blossoms,
Golden streaks done in her hair.
Now I cry to think of her,
Because she is no longer there.
Perfect love does not exist,
Though ours was of the purist kind.
Meaningless touches, hugs, and words.
Now all that's left is my saddened mind.
Silver eyes and velvet strands
Of the purest blond hair so long
And gentle as her angel wings,
She was my world, but now she's gone.
-Mars-
