May
June 2010
The miles start to hurt, The days begin to kill, It's all in your eyes, It's the smell of your smoke perfume, Soon love turns to lust, then back to, Nothing nothing. My hands fall all over you, not on
The miles start to hurt, The days begin to kill, It's all in your eyes, It's the smell of your smoke perfume, Soon love turns to lust, then back to, Nothing nothing. My hands fall all over you, not on
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