like the sunrises of sunsets
this is it, put it all in a crate
this is it, a curced cirle of life
there is no other path regardless indefinite strives
always the same, o always the same
O fairies would thee not abandon
wailing wind cries and so this son
hopes suddenly disappear
bitter beer
a fear
and hundreds of sleepless winter
ajie
January05, 2010
03.01 AM
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