If you are immortal, I shall live on too.

A pair of Disprins shall sustain me too.

I shall carry my wrinkles to witness you.

I shall lift my damp lips to brush against yours.

I shall borrow glasses to read the Bible,

but the verse of your beauty shall always be clear, my idol.

The sun shall embrace us as we fly to heaven.

The moon shall invite stars upon our presence.

If to hell you go, I shall also follow the heat.

To wipe your sweat as Satan cooks your skin.

And ask him why he has chosen to torture you.

Which he shall reply by saying he has a crush on you.

And that’s the power and expense beauty has on you.

It attracts kings and demons to annoy you.