Hi ha alguna cosa més cruel que jugar amb els sentiments d’una persona?
There are blue skies in my dreams and laughter that seems unending.
There are green grass fields there and happiness and hope for tomorrow.
My cup is full and my heart spills awkward and embarrasing blood onto white golden streets. And I am unashamed of the stains my steps leave.
Tears stream down my cheeks, only to meet their redeemer and be wiped away. And there is joy.
There are green grass fields there and happiness and hope for tomorrow.
My cup is full and my heart spills awkward and embarrasing blood onto white golden streets. And I am unashamed of the stains my steps leave.
Tears stream down my cheeks, only to meet their redeemer and be wiped away. And there is joy.
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