Mark Zein


Werry

What I'd give to feel your hand on me,
when I'm all alone, lost in my sea,
When I'm living on the edge of my beliefs,
When I think of you, when my faith leaps.

What I'd give to smell your scent,
To be lost in your storm, to be bent,
To be hold by your arms and to feel your breath,
To be laying hopeless, next to you, 'till the death.

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