The relentless handwriting of the time is going to go to my life and you are going and this world is running out of these minutes. The meaning of this futility is You put on my road the beautiful name of life We are condemned to a birthday We have a good life This is the custom of the time The life of the captain of Khazoun and a few moments of spring The life of a fantasy in my mind question In the claws of the fate, we are a pity. Symphs If only one drop but we have sea together I dont have Jonah and I have both gold
