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Сообщение от Squezzle
я не очень  |
скромняшка
Baby, I might compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grave
The more I get of you stranger it feels
And now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the grave
There is so much a man can tell you, so much he can say
You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain
Baby, to me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
