You're welcome.
Little flower, you were talking to the stone
How much you loved a woman,
that others wanted to make her
What song should I write to her,
with a voice to sigh,
to listen to in the air
I will give her my scent and I will give her my soul
I will be a saint for her
She has no love, my eyes, my eyes
And I did not look at the high sand of the sand
When I blew the fresh scratches of the body
To pass,
she has no love,
my eyes,
my eyes And I did not look at the high sand of the sand
Little flower,
you were talking to the stone
How they gave him a king,
he looked like a hot corner in the sun
A little girl so sweet,
let the little rain catch her,
in the air a little
But the whole world is a mystery and a scent next to a void
A water and a fire
She has no love,
my eyes,
my eyes And I did not look at the high sand of the sand
When I blew the fresh scratches of the body
To pass, she has no love, my eyes, my eyes
And I did not look at the high sand of the sand
She has
no love,
my eyes, my eyes
And I did not look at the high sand of the sand
When I blew the fresh scratches of the body To pass,
she has no love,
my eyes,
my eyes And I did not look at the high sand of the sand