Это просто Вьюи блог

You are my guardian. my gold seal.

you're a saint, as the people of the national pilaf.

days now and I do not say nothing

without saying a word or two about love.

I though at night, insomnia could be rushed to you.

mangled problems, and thus the wood.

influence on me cry to silence

about love, without saying a word.

I have the feelings that would b on every corner shouting

at all the stations of subway lines.

and how nice to sleep at night,

knowing you, it's my gut.