Weak hunts find your hiding places
The ones with strong hold tell you where it is
Weekends are the times we can recover
The weekends need to weak things to told
Across a portal to the evening
People say machines don't have a soul
But my car, she was born a lady
The british navy sailors?
But where it's sky at night
Help me love the January cold
The mission gets?
And she's got?
And in the evening we retire
To let our brains desire? thugs
If by the full your planting diamonds
The come the springtime you will have gold rings
You ride the bow of sinking ship
The taste of salts, the story that you tell
But all my friends are islands
My family is what you don't see down below? infiltration
The coming of the? metaphore
By my time I'll keep on singing
This? with the anniversary's gift

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