My cup is cold, my paper's old. My heart is sold to melancholia. My clothes are torn, my shoes are worn. My heart is borne to melancholia A strange surprise, what I despised. In other guys is her
My cup is cold, my paper's old. My heart is sold to melancholia. My clothes are torn, my shoes are worn. My heart is borne to melancholia A strange surprise, what I despised. In other guys is her