O ar escuro, a noite sad, eu encontro-me sleepless e eu gemo. Ningum importa-se quando um homem vai louco: pesaroso, deus est contente. A sombra muda no osso.
Cada sombra tem um nome; Quando eu penso de meus do eu moan, mim ouvem boatos de tal fama. No para o orgulho, mas somente o shame, sombra muda no osso.
Quando eu blush mim weep para a alegria, e o laughter deixa cair de mim como uma pedra: O laughter do envelhecimento do menino para ver os mortos ageless assim coy. A sombra muda no osso.
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