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Oh little runaway How could I refuse? Take my hand   Here we go! Oh, my little runaway We'll have so much fun
Oh, little runaway... Did you mean to meet me here? All alone yet together   I'm standing here Can you see me? Oh, little runaway...   Do you see me? There's no need to cry
An artist’s mind is often swallowed by indigenous thoughts. Trying to balance ones conceptions on a fine thread.
The concept of the words that i speak ,the words that i prech, the words that i say with such a stady flow, poetry touches on so many concepts in just one beat, it makes the heart wake up from its sleep, it makes a man and woman think, it makes a
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