Bang-Bang. i'm dead.

my most wanted boy
[so far from here]
i'll marry you on a bloomy sunday
and you'll take me away with you.

i'll wear a short flourish dress and the wind will blow my hair on my face
[and you'll pretend not to notice that my hands are cold]
you're going to wear a white shirt and black pants
and we're both going to be barefoot
you'll put a daisy on my hair [and i'll try not to cry when i realize that i love you]