Sun rise… let it.
Can't do anything about it.
But you know I would never,
Over these subtle cries, ever admit it.
Can't do anything about it.
But you know I would never,
Over these subtle cries, ever admit it.
Love dies deader,
Deader than ever I could ever,
As soon as I, story teller,
Start telling the stories about the ways I die.
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