Someone deceived you long ago when they told you, 
You were destined to become a man.
A proper bloke. A guy behind which, many would stand.
There is but one, and he kneels before you, taking your hand.
They took away your smile and placed ego in its stead.
They struck your chest and said take it or you're dead.
But, I see you as you really are, because I am your sweetheart.

And I will do what I can to help your pulse restart.
I put my lips to you and breathe.
My beso negro lies underneath.
I wrap you in my arms as you fall asleep.
And slowly, it comes together, what was once apart.
I bask in the beauty of this work of Art.
No, you are not a man, you are my sweetheart.