The song of love lost Memories
blooming violets
with our words:
"not let us never, never, never
"
I tell you now, but the same things as a fan
soon, love,
to dry roses
well for us.
Love
ripping the hair is lost now. All that remains is some
caress
listless and a little tenderness.
And when you find yourself in hand
the flowers wilted in the sun a
April
now regret them away. But
that will be the first meet on the street, you
gold
cover for a kiss ever given to a new love
It will be the first meet on the street,
you cover with a gold
kiss ever given,
for a new love.
Franco Battiato
0 comments:
Post a Comment