try my best to paint the place blue Pouring all the sorrow after you With no colour left in my palette, As though the canvas breathes its last
Mother sold him and he never knew a father; Born adult, as though he never had a childhood.
try my best to paint the place blue Pouring all the sorrow after you With no colour left in my palette, As though the canvas breathes its last
Mother sold him and he never knew a father; Born adult, as though he never had a childhood.
