quarta-feira, 16 de novembro de 2011

The sound of goodbye screamming loud and slowly.
Those violet wheeping shores keep turning blue my deepest soul... and mind.
Oh please, leave me drowning in these tears - I'm sure they're not as salty as you.
I'm sure they'll wash away this mess you're letting me with. That taste of perfection... it can not be real. I wish it not to be real. I need you to be real

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