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the life
the moon shines to
the wailing of the soltu face
I love when flowers laugh with joy .
the sol is so perfect with
their rayosy your hand are cold,
sweet lips that touch the leaves of dreams .
your music is so bitter and wing again
so forlorn, a note of sound can
make us cry and laugh.
the moon shines to
the wailing of the soltu face
I love when flowers laugh with joy .
the sol is so perfect with
their rayosy your hand are cold,
sweet lips that touch the leaves of dreams .
your music is so bitter and wing again
so forlorn, a note of sound can
make us cry and laugh.
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