Gently plucking strings, his mind goes where none have been.
There must be something on this road for me to see, it's my time.
What road will see me through? The one that jitters and shakes? The thought half wrought?
You take your road and I'll take mine, and my road will see me through.
Without you.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone
There must be something on this road for me to see, it's my time.
What road will see me through? The one that jitters and shakes? The thought half wrought?
You take your road and I'll take mine, and my road will see me through.
Without you.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone
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