Every kind of love, or at least my kind of love, must be an imaginary love, to start with baby.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
You're out of the woods, You're out of the dark, You're out of the night. Step into the sun, Step into the light. Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place On the Face of the Earth or the sky. Hold onto your breath, Hold onto your heart, Hold onto your hope. March up to the gate and bid it open
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