Zuhal Olcay
Miscellaneous
Mirrors
I am a blend, I am a blend
My forty-line edict
There is no cure in my knee
Make me sing
Make me sing
You make me cry
Mirrors mirrors
Whether my mother is offended
Whether my father is offended
Let my striking hand be broken
My sadness can be seen in you
Right My tree is covered in white
I die while I'm alive
You make me say
You make me cry
Mirrors are mirrors
Always those lines on my face
Always melodies inside me
The years flew by
You made me sing
You made me sing
You made me cry
Mirrors mirrors

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