It feels so difficult. Guess i´m looking for a miracle. I get so sick of it. It feels so counferfeit. I rise above it. Rise above it. ♪
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.