In regret, I saw the flower of your visit No color nor had your smell No prettier on you No bow had your eyebrow No twist you had your tight Nor had your color nor had your smell No shrine, you had your breath Tears and Oh had no color you nor smell your smell No prettier on you No bow had your eyebrow No twist you have you No color nor smell you
from this desert to that desert. Flying A thousand love in the garden their beautiful niche in the niche One one in Goldon All the thirsty lips of the Baron had no color nor your smell had no pretty on you No arc of your eyebrows had no twist you
