Entering the street, grasping as I sit
April 9th, firmly shut by thorns
Stitching patches from these soft-tone matches I’ve worn
Dress knitted, fire ignited

Daughter of Cornelia, guarded by Maria
Believed this area blossoms with wisteria
Roaming further, shedding quicker
As it gets colder, flowers covered in ice ***** her heart deeper

I labeled these flowers after your name
You were there to purify my name
I hope I have never trusted the fame
Now, all these cameras hunt the same

Papers fly, surrounding me as I kneel down
Kinfolks facing them with shields and swords, while I frown
Knock on the door, talking to her alone
Vines are sealing her golden tone

Castle paused its horologe
He picked me up with his caroche
With an aim to show me butterflies
Resisting any speculation to rise