He is Spring Honey, a smooth symphony, an enormous whisper.
You rose from the Forest.
Why must we drive the beauty away?
A thousand languages crying for you, but Death, it never screams.
// 12/13
He is Spring Honey, a smooth symphony, an enormous whisper.
You rose from the Forest.
Why must we drive the beauty away?
A thousand languages crying for you, but Death, it never screams.
