Baby, I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave The more I get of you stranger it feels Now that your rose is in bloom A light hits the gloom on the grave
Baby, I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave The more I get of you stranger it feels Now that your rose is in bloom A light hits the gloom on the grave
Чем более просветленными становимся мы, тем менее возможно для нас жить в согласии с кем-либо где бы то ни было. Чем больше мы узнаем, тем лучше для нас жить самим по себе.
I hate feeling like this I'm so tired of trying to fight this I'm asleep and all I dream of Is waking to you Tell me what you will listen Your touch is what I'm missing And the more I hide I realize I'm slowly losing you
