Archiwum 08 grudnia 2003


gru 08 2003 he...
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He... may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
He may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
He... may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
He may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
He may not be what he may seem
Inside his shell
He who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
He may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die
He... may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me I'll take his laughter and his tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where he goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
He...
He...
He...
 

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