| I can ride the tides, cross the deserts, clamber the mountains just to share your story. Shower you glory, and shellac souls for you. I can croon like an angel, songs ever so humble and be gratified. Because songs will fade to silence, Stories, they will cease.The dust will settle, covering all my selfless deeds. So as I strive to serve you, won't you make it clear to me;
That if I don't have your love, I won't be free. |
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