Mary Eva

Toast of poets in which was I, single or in slippers toast of poets, what sad song, marks with violets all the illusion. The love has not been to offer my punishment, toast of poets, the love was not, left without children me toast of poets while the moon falls what sweet creature of my solitude. Toast of sad, sad people like at night nonexistent sun and I that I depend here on the sun, its ray, am spending red, empty energy in this sad moan in that I am Brindaremos your glass and mine, with them to the sky tended and watching God without sadnesses that flood the beings, it does not have by where to take hold it Quiero to be somebody for whom it wants much, but already only the Annex would be finished the essence to me, your you have chosen and you asked to lose to me. I cry to the sun and I sweat, poetizo, fragile toast of as much dreaming and little to gain they hit the glasses, interchange liquids, the mouths fill and knows the wine well. test and a new flavor arises in the mouth again finishes the love, love of the real one, but everything cannot finish badly. Hello, Topacia goes despacia Hello lady, candy shades anochecedora, light of the decline that leaves the shade, the harmony, with desire leaves ignited dawn. Hurt Of death, hurt Failures that I did not know and life happy, amiable and lasting. I in good form with soltura in walking, from dark shade separate I and flee and to the divine decline perhaps? , I go? Italy mother country of Avoids the boot conquered it to the love, perpetual, dull mother country, a single love of Mary Eva, is stayed and enjoyed there, goes, is wonderful there. Credit: Mary Barra-2011.

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