All seems wasted now you comb your hair. While your eyes search for a backdoor to get out. All you could do was to leave your deeds at the door. As you entered this room of sickness and doubt.
Softly like a touch of a dark angel. Her hand in yours. You're dressed to kill. Can she tell. . Swing your partner to the right. Swing your partner to the left.
We are the sons and daughters of a revolution, revolutionaries walking us out of opression and into a. no-low promise land.. . and this is leaves us with a great sense of sadness dwelling inside our soul. no one can explain where.