Remind your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even after oceans dry up to bare bottom,
Or rocks crumble down and rust away.

But you have a first excuse for not partying.
The merit increase trails behind the inflation,
Or the bonus is not forthcoming.

Rephrase your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even after our bank account hits sinking hole,
Or mount of debt piles up to the North Pole.

But you have a second excuse for not partying:
You are not feeling well in recent days,
And you do not want to be sickly looking.

Rephrase your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even if you starve to a skeleton,
Or you plump up like a pumpkin.

But you have a third excuse for not partying:
You do not have a suitable suit and tie
To impress those handsome bunch of guys.

Rephrase your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even if you get only rags to wear,
Or you have last pair of pants to sell.

But you have a fourth excuse for not partying:
I have not bought evening gown for long,
And I no longer sing as charming a song.

Rephrase your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even if sparkle recedes from my gaze,
Or wrinkles grow all over my face.

But you have one last excuse for not partying:
You grow absolutely tired
Of eating dinner by the candlelight.

Rephrase your vow, if I may:
You would love me the same way
Even if you become deathly frail,
Or you age like an old snail.

Oh my darling, it is valentine night.
Let us lit the candlelight,
I will again sit by your side.

(2/6/2006)