Yes, my dear, I can be happy.
No, my dear, your words don't scare me.
Yes, my dear, there's a real *****.
No, my dear, it's not metallic like yours.

If the heart belongs to me,
it will love who I want
because I choose who
I will fall in love with.

If the heart is not yours,
don't try to change mine
because I choose the way
how I will love others.

The feelings are infinite
just like the search for them
but I am not infinite
neither patient.

I am mortal, made of flesh;
flesh which rots.
I am prone to the forgetfulness.,
therefore, my search dies with me.