You dont see the night in love, your smell is full of excuse Youre not a rice from my homeland, from the crying that doesnt end The moment, the Matte window, the house of the memory of your memory is not the sound to get it, I dont read you, I dont like you, Whether or not the colorless, short -sightedness Night of the night, no fear of the way, always smile on the moon
Laughing, replacing the homeland, the story of the tragedy is not a flower, you are not a flower, you are not , you are not late, you are not. Read to you, to die you arent, its not the sound to be full, to read you, to die for you.
