they smell the sorrow of a long forgotten event: to be born.
I was born from a mother called "nobody".
who will hide your face in your hands"...
you're the last page of a book which is not to be red.
I drown in the night of anger.
just imagine to be an infant.
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 1