My cup is cold, my paper's old. My heart is sold to melancholia. My clothes are torn, my shoes are worn. My heart is borne to melancholia A strange surprise, what I despised. In other guys is her
My cup is cold, my paper's old. My heart is sold to melancholia. My clothes are torn, my shoes are worn. My heart is borne to melancholia A strange surprise, what I despised. In other guys is her
You were vanishing like paraffin. So you had to go back under. Flight B208 had been delayed. So you had to go back under. . Our plane took off in pounding rain. I looked at you and we exchanged
