Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Etre le salut de soeur de mine

If I could leave my burning skin
That has been used up in your sin
Is there a tiny part of me
Untouched, unsoiled by misery?

I am the city that will lie
You are the one that blame passed by
This is the place where I will weep
The loneliness of sweet conceit

Closer now, see the revelation



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