Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Running thru Da Monsoon
Beyond Da World
Where Da Rain Wont Hurt
Fightin Da Storm
Into Da blue
n'' When I Lose Myself I Think Of You
Together we''ll be runnin Sumwhere New Thru Da Monsoon
Pple R like stained-glass windows
dey sparkle n shine wen the sun is out
but wen da darkness sets in
their true beauty is revealed only if der is a light frm within