There Is A Garden In Her Face,
Where Roses And White Lilies Blow;
A Heavenly Paradise Is That Place,
Wherein All Pleasant Fruits Do Grow.
There Cherries Grow That None May Buy,
Till Cherry Ripe Themselves Do Cry
Dere''s A Luxury In
Self-Reproach,
Whn V Blame
Ourselves,
V Feel Dath No One Else
Has A Rite 2 Blame Us.
Its d Confession, Not
The Priest, Dat Gives
Us Absoluti
Life Never Leaves U
Empty
It Always Replaces
Evrything U Lost
If It Asks U To Put
Sumthing Down,
It''s B''coz
It Wants U To
Pick Up Sumthing
Better ...
