The Custom of Love
The Custom of Love
Often solitude is found,
Even my ownness melts away later.
Step her by the way goes a the way..
Even if it is straight, it turns.
Staring into the mirror's eyes,
I don't know who will fool me.
The custom of love has always been,
The butterfly always burns on the lamp.
I have found friends like Shivam here,
All the prices of the heart are known in the same way.