do Love, i want to be in that forest,
i ot to be in a violin with you, i want to know the know he things you know because the rustlin leaves have told so.
The oportunity of day is the other way .
I have to paris,
so much bread, and cobble stone streets , i have only but one bike. You’re silhouetted in he light of the day light window like he thoughts I had ”i love the cobble stone”
If i play the piano would you leave or lean