There was once a carpenter's son;
he died by his stepfather's profession
about an item made of wood

He died by his stepfather's profession
carrying wood upon his back

He died by his stepfather's profession
with wood touching him
He died by his stepfather's profession
by wood with nails in skin...

Some say
Love is a temptress;
Luring prey into its trap,
Set so innocently
So that victims
Walk blindly into it.

Some say
Love is a trickster,
Cunning and deceitful;
That it intoxicates the soul
And hides the truth.

Some say that it
Kidnaps them,
Brainwashes them,
And leaves nothing but pain
And suffering.

I say
Love is the chance
That no one takes,
The dream
That all fear,
The ambition
That no one feels worthy of.

I say
Love is the soul;
So afraid of death
That it never learns to
Live.

Let your agony sail on a paper boat;
Wind will be its captain.
Allow it to drift far, far away
until it sinks into the depth
of sunken emotions.