The WriterThe writer writes. Oh how sweet, sour How passionate, apathetic How shallow, deep Are his words.The Writer
Do you not feel His words? Do they not cut deep, tenderly, Sweetly, with a sour powder That stings the wound.
Do you not hear Oh his words The cries, the sighs The stumble of words,
And the whimper of his soul.
Do you not feel Oh his words Does the warmth not penetrate your bones And slither down your heart Stamping over the ice: remember.
Do you not hear His words? the incomprehensible so
Day.
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"and u make me talk and u make me feel and u make me show what i try 2 conceal i trust in you would you let me down, would you laugh at me if i said i cared for you, could you feel the same way too"
"the name of the game" ABBA
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Pirates get lots o' booty
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Buying a camera doesn't make you a photographer.
It makes you a camera owner.
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