My Medea. . inside the labyrinth walls. there lies a tiny child who sleeps alone. and as the daylight falls. the wind becomes so wild across the stone.
Mission Street is a striking dark-eyed stranger. Who speaks a language I don't know but long to learn. Its cadences fall endlessly beyond the windowpane.
send a breeze. a pitbull's yelp. a tender squeeze. a cry for help. make it now. and make it fast. such memories. can never last. I long for the days. music and mayhem.
Moody (It's got me) x 7. Baby, why'd you have to leave?. Something up your sleeve?. Baby, I find it hard to breath. . Moody (It's got me) x 8. Baby, why'd you have to leave?.
She's looking up and out to. A galaxy. A fateful boat trip 'cross a northern sea. And on a frosty window. She writes her name. O daughter this is how she became.
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