Love of innocence,
Never have defense
For it knows not the game love plays.

Knows not the participation it seeks,
Or that its companion is Weep!
Or that it's a knife,
Cuts oh so deep
Like beautiful roses blooming in spring,
Only to perish with the wintry winds.

Lurking within Cupid’s bow,
It’s not within your puppetry grasp,
Please do hope its effect becomes
Your fleeting past.

But pray it crosses your path,
For you won't learn to value your heart.
Remember...It's not within your puppetry grasp.