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Wednesday, 14 October 2009 18:50 |
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Her eyes radiate sadness like a dying sun Her touch as cold as a freshly dug grave
She panics when he looks away and says: "I cried when you left me stray" sighs and continues: "Now it's your turn!" to gloom it is his turn
"What does this mean?" he asks "It's up to you" she says
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