Because of being warm by the kotatsu, a kind of the heater in Japan, my wish isn't realized, for sleeping with my head in your lap.
Be mistaken for runs in her stockings, bloody on her thigh.
A child of the nakai, the parlormaid in the Japanese style hotel, in the linen room, is dreaming a dream with a straw ricebag.
All night long, don't miss it by one minute by one second, on the Magick Square.
Biting her lips in, lost her virgin, golden chains were left.