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شگد اكره برودها. 

"نروح للبيت؟" 

And I guess it doesn't matter what I am or pretend to be
          'Cause it's her you'll always love
          And it's her I'll always envy
          Wanna end this now so dreams of you won't keep me up
          And I swear I'm gonna cry, I'm sick of trying to be tough

You said you were in love with me
          Both of us know that that's impossible
          And I could make you rue the day
          But I could never make you stay.. 
          Not for all the tea in China
          Not if I could sing like a bird
          Not for all North Carolina
          Not for all my little words.. 
          Not if I could write for you
          The sweetest song you ever heard
          It doesn't matter what I'll do
          Not for all my little words. 

اكول

عير بالولد

ليش حاذفه عود شتقوصدينن

متتتت شنو نور عندج توزيعات عيوره بلمنصه ههههههههههه

عير بشكو واحد يستخدم ai ويسمي روحه كاتب وخابص نفسه انتو عاررر عالواتباد 

The book of love is long and boring.
           No one can lift the damn thing.
           It's full of charts and facts and figures
           and instructions for dancing.
           But I
           I love it when you read to me and you
           you can read me anything.
          
          The book of love has music in it.
           In fact, that's where music comes from.
           Some of it is just transcendental.
           Some of it is just really dumb. But I
           I love it when you sing to me.
           You
           You can sing me anything.
          
           The book of love is long and boring.
           and written very long ago.
           It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
           and things were all too young to know.
           But I
           I love it when you give me things and
           you
           You ought to give me wedding rings.
           I love it when you give me things.
           You
           You ought to give me wedding rings.