The receding lines on my face
And my gray hair
They appear every year
At the end of August
Twenty years ago you were born
I still keep an old portrait
But now that you've grown up
You don't look anything like me
That look of sadness of yours
It feeds my pain
Your princess pose
Where are you from? took
Tomorrow, tomorrow
Tomorrow, tomorrow
Tomorrow is the 23rd
There are 8 days until the end of the month
I haven't seen you for so long
I wanted your kiss again