2007-06-16 01:45:30影布留痕
Memory
As wings of death soaring in sky,
All we can do is to run and hide.
I’d rather to die than to harbor,
So, I dart out and make my own way.
Never will I stay, not until a whoosh gets me.
In memory of mosquitoes died in flights with swallows.
All we can do is to run and hide.
I’d rather to die than to harbor,
So, I dart out and make my own way.
Never will I stay, not until a whoosh gets me.
In memory of mosquitoes died in flights with swallows.
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hidding deep...inside