Vista previa
One tenth of her. I feel her talking thru my stand-up hairs. Which of you, or does he touch them, or is he daft. It's hard boys. Alone and old, it's really like her, it wears her clothes, I might be, I might be. But you're not me and you don't know I'm back in the mine. Don't be afraid my love for you to die. It stands its ground as i stand mine. The ex-flesh of the temperature, I'm just as beautiful as your light allows.