I got up and down the mirror The word greetings and a hundred times practiced I trembled for my heart A few of my gardens from the garden I knocked home from the house to the alley to meet Hey, lest I was scared again I have I still have a word again What kind of hunting to hunt What do I love to do?
Night with his beautiful remembrance I took the pure poetry of love of love I cake I came and shook his eyes again The horror of self -sacrifice.
