My naked cousin. . I see him running. . All over headland. . Scared as his * as he's running. . His naked skin fries. . Fries in the sun, oh my. . My naked cousin can cook till he's
soft song of the water flowing in the river. Above on the headland* there is a blessed old cemetery. The place in which saints lived in times long ago. There are people within spending a while
spoor to mark his passage, trace his weary climb. Cross the moor and make the headland -. Stumbling, wayward, blind. In the end his footprints extend as one single line. . This latest exponent of
of the sea going into my ears. The soft song of the water flowing in the river. Above on the headland* there is a blessed old cemetery. The place in which saints lived in times long ago. There are
water flowing in the river. Above on the headland* there is a blessed old cemetery. The place in which saints lived in times long ago. There are people within spending a while carefree. The will not
