zaterdag 23 maart 2013

No more tears, my heart is dry
I don't laugh and I don't cry
I don't think about you all the time
But when I do – I wonder why

You have to go out of my door

And leave just like you did before
I know I said that I was sure
But rich men can't imagine poor.

One day baby, we'll be old

And think of all the stories that we could have told

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