When you hear your voice, let me get your message, especially the rose face, the most powerful, the strongest one hundred thousand milligrams of active substance as a painkiller cuts my pain. The dark clouds in my heart fall apart like the sun of July, and I wear a happiness cloak on my back. My face comes alive, my heart is speeding up, my skin color comes back. I'm switching to a bright world. What would the doctor do? Diagnosis is certain. The drug is certain. Dose is clear.
I gotta find another half. In my hand, in my series. Her heart is in my heart. It must be nice. His face is intact. Most of the time, he must be silent, always loving, always waiting. Eli hamarat, peaceful, relaxed, heart, compassion in heart. One-to-one, giving roses on the roads, dimples, smiling, come without saying. The one who covers my imperfections, the only one who sees me, only burns me, adds life to my life, sits with me and shields with me, always with me. Is there anyone who knows someone like this?
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I made the angel recipe. Is that how it is? Always hurt, hit, break, hurt. A loved one and a quitter. Whoever hit him with his eyes burned with his eyes. Disaster-i devran, king-devil. What you call a dick must be the puny whip. His eyes should be fuckin, his tongue should be edicts. It must be both coquettish and spoiled, both elemkar and punishment. Both the gin and the devil, and must be both fondant and occupied.
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