I found no water dripping from my hairtips As I had that face-to-face look to my fave jeans. Lost as when I did the transferring of feet, I thought that departure was quite a break of heart.
The open window has sent me a bright invitation, Sun's glaring but I never saw her fine reflection. I felt the Air strolls through my skin The taste of the floral serum enveloped by the sachet.
I had poured myself with the aquifer's liquor, The remembrance of the search was over my psyche. I could still feel the pain that excites my upper muscles As I tried pushing and pulling to break the ground level.
Cuddling the old reversible jeans, he says I'm Free to Go, I crowned my soul with an inner bliss and whispered to the Air. My eyes were shut for a moment, but I was an alliance with them - Of them whose not emptied yet * revitalizes my potential.
One boasts that *the Light was completed, The other has kept me envy his softening skills. I never thought that there's still hope for dull flying-tips But they simply say, "It's not the end of bad hair days."