In a young heart, the fire of life's desire,
With it, love's tides, a passionate pyre.
In a young heart, the fire of life's desire,
With it, love's tides, a passionate pyre.
In every heart, God's hue, a sacred dye,
Wrestle the heart, and your own soul will die.
Do not play with hearts.
In a young heart, the fire of life's desire,
With it, love's tides, a passionate pyre.
In every heart, God's hue, a sacred dye,
Wrestle the heart, and your own soul will die.
Do not play with hearts.
A heart, like glass, fragile and clear,
Do not shatter another's heart with lies, my dear.
In a young heart, the fire of life's desire,
With it, love's tides, a passionate pyre.
In every heart, God's hue, a sacred dye,
Wrestle the heart, and your own soul will die.
Do not play with hearts.
The heart, so tender, vulnerable and meek,
When the heart weeps, the Divine does speak.
The heart, God's temple, a hallowed space,
Never dare to play, desecrate its grace.
In a young heart, the fire of life's desire,
With it, love's tides, a passionate pyre.
In every heart, God's hue, a sacred dye,
Wrestle the heart, and your own soul will die.
Do not play with hearts.
Whom you choose, bestow your heart, reflect,
With true love's light, a soul you can protect.
Never dare to play with hearts.
Do not play with hearts.
Do not play with hearts.
Do not play with hearts.
Do not play with hearts.
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