A dor é um autocolante.
Love... feel love. Every question, every answer too. Ever constant, ever changing few. It's all memory in the sun, or it's all in the darkness. Maybe it's all around to seeif we try. And maybe it's been inside of me all this time. Love. Crazy with it, crazier without. Never certain, never full of doubt. Now you feel it, now you don't. Do you know what you're feeling? Where did it come from and where, does it go? If it were right in front of me, would i know?
Love
