Always take the stairs, my dove.
Sweet girl, put away your knife.
You need not cut asunder these vines
they'll make you grow so tall in life.

Always stand up straight, my heart
Let them see your imp eyes burn
as you sing in constellations
swirl as you turn.

Always mismatch your socks, my dear
Never forfeit your spontaneity
for conformity, my sweet,
live your eleven in gaiety.

Always love your love freely, pet
My baby sister, your soul consumes
each who touch it, it follows me still,
bursting like a rose in bloom.