rain Flooding through the veins Of wilted vines. But love travels like a rumor here, Losing form with every ear, A skeleton of something more. But
and rain Flooding through the veins Of wilted vines. But love travels like a rumor here, Losing form with every ear, A skeleton of something more. But
cry out, but it comes like a hum. He drags me, half-standing, along a dirt road into a house. I can't see any other houses and it looks like a farm.
