He
has an empty pocket, but ages and wrinkles
Suit
with patched elbow smells pipe Tabaco, cheap perfume
He
is not the Prince to fight for me till his last blood drop
Sunset
is near of his life, but not ready to leave us…
You
never imagine how I need you
You
wouldn’t let share your bed
Since
we met, you’ve turned to my reason to survive
Simply
in my thought…
Wishing to hold your hand
Willing to lie on your knees
No matter between you and I
Twenty or more years
Wake
up the morning with the worry of you
When
I see you feel better, you’re safe
Your
death is nightmare not mine
Yet
we’ll never meet
Gambino
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