When I slip over my glass life,
Before I could grasp,
Thorny bush of hopes,
Broken sharp edges,
Scratches deeply all over me,
The splashed warm blood of dream,
Finds way to run on my nerve,
To reach to my spirit.
Before I could grasp,
Thorny bush of hopes,
Broken sharp edges,
Scratches deeply all over me,
The splashed warm blood of dream,
Finds way to run on my nerve,
To reach to my spirit.
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