In the sky at 9 p.m.,
there is a longing still sacred by a smile from our lips that is taboo.
Until the umpteenth time, you're just talking about a drizzle and a cup of old memories.
It's okay, sir. I know that he's still alive in his place.
On the sky at 11 p.m.,
Under the same month, we are a love who fights against the seasons of pain and loneliness.
there is a longing still sacred by a smile from our lips that is taboo.
Until the umpteenth time, you're just talking about a drizzle and a cup of old memories.
It's okay, sir. I know that he's still alive in his place.
On the sky at 11 p.m.,
Under the same month, we are a love who fights against the seasons of pain and loneliness.