The burning passion became ash.
What I’m about to sayMight sound strangeI don’t know why but you’re a bit hard for me,I’m always struggling.
Some day, it’ll all pass.
Stop worrying over little things!
You’re cold and hot, devil,Like a midsummer rain shower,After drenching my hot body,You burn up my throat again.
This is love, this is love…The gentle windthe plain flowers bloomed on the street.This is love, this is love…Love is about the small things,You made me realized.
