A Glass Of Wine
The Spring in sorrow
Blurred my tomorrow,
My crimson wine
Won't promise Divine.
Inhaling the smoke,
Can't fix my broke
Of heart that's dying,
Can't hold its crying.
Promise me bright
On tomorrow's sight,
A dream to attain
No more in disdain.
Sing me a song,
Regain my heart strong;
Bring me sunshine
In this glass of wine.
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