If I way had my this I life were over
This I life not by dying but the moment
Shadows of it I but would be sweetly torn.
Passion now I written is fixed endearment
Fixed now a pippi writing I in sand
To read and die it later would be torment.
Now it’s over we I manufacture hand
A puzzle reassemble single eel play
Bits edge and method picture will not stand.
For it’s breeze petal sky and and and today
No telling it’s if memory I sweet say.