The organ in the classroom is tinkling, tinkling, tinking.
Like your confession, your voice and movements are always very soft
Smiling at your back as you turn around and leave after delivering the letter
I like your concern for your delicate handwriting
The warm milk bottle is held tightly in my hand
I always feel at ease wherever you are
The days are spinning in my mind like a merry-go-round
There are those scenes where you are nice to me
You said that if you hold hands, it's a promise
But my dear, that's not love
Like a shooting star that has no time to make a wish
No matter how beautiful it is, it can only be the past
Too beautiful a promise because you are too young
But my dear, that's not love
It's like the elves live in the wrong forest
That love is so wrong and transparent
Intention: