Joy is the food we share, love is our home brother.
Now they are turning the streetlightning on. The bus drives the lap.I look for a scratch on the surface, one crack, one hole, one splice.It has to be something good whit everything, it has to grow something under every splice, every competition, every step back.Raise me up, give me content to hang on. Then I will heat you my friend, I will listen and understand.
Kommentarer
Trackback
