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| By genbilim | ||||||||
| 17 April 2007 | ||||||||
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The most I took you while going It was the moving of my mind Which was really compulsion for sentences from one stage to another I had fallen from your eyes; my scars were a present from your eyes I couldn’t manage to love, maybe to be loved I had domestic sorrows blocking love There was no lie in the eyes, only sound The promises given was one, the swears said zero The things gathered, the photos were ripped out from their places And hung up the tag to the heart A new love, which will erase the traces of love Ordered again For rent.
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