At 9 oclock a street I am alone I dont think there is a rain to dream
short portrayals of your street frozen tungs
I see you How much did you see
? Or are you still there? See me?
Under Pamun, Yellow Leaf Scrutiny Like a Cold Friend, but what good was a coffee shop, coffee and bitterness Your eyes are gifted by your hands but what was good but how good it was I was The day was The last of the memories
I dont think so late I dont know why I remember?
I wouldnt like to think but not that look, it cant be separated
under my pomon, but good lucky laughter
Your eyes shouted me the gift of your hands but how good it was but how good it was
