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Piano and Trumpet
At the end of the street lives a man,
his eyes do lie but silhouette always
speaks thing all wise.
When winds shatter the glass of a
mourning window which opens
in the garth of a widowed daisy.
Her innocence can...
his eyes do lie but silhouette always
speaks thing all wise.
When winds shatter the glass of a
mourning window which opens
in the garth of a widowed daisy.
Her innocence can...
