I miss you and I do not know where to look for
where you can come get you,
hand with that keep you tied to the thought, I do not recognize.
What's Next?
What's Next?
Each time is an infinite sadness that tears
the beauty that we share in a short time.
I miss you and I do not know whether it is right
and I do not think I do well
but a sick heart is attached to the first pink
a sick mind and sticks to the first beauty
the most beautiful rose
the most beautiful rose.
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