on the dreams' alley my thoughts levitate smoothly discords are absent there, love flies to me like the one high plains drifter who has ghostly shapes in the pics' language our feelings are narrated the music translates 'em
At some point, we get what we want without any reservation. Life with her whims of the picky princess puts you to choose a purposeless path. Therefore, someday, somehow, wherever, the unknown becomes known, and then nothing else matters