the coming of you tortured my old feelings
His heart is too cold, if only you want to know. Someone had extinguished the last coals there, then joined the wind.
Memesraimu yesterday is his business back to cultivate fire. But the prostitute, it is not easy for him to dispel the chills. He is overcome with anxiety, unable to warm; his body, your body.
The story is back he made to suffer. Hypocrisy, when he speaks of hate to the warmth he utters.
He's just having trouble stemming frozen ones. Being, far away in his instincts, he longed and wanted to go back on fire.
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