Love can never be portrayed
the same way as a tree or the sea
or any othe mystery
It’s the eyes, with which we see
It’s the sinner in the saint
It’s the light inside the paint
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Love can never be portrayed
the same way as a tree or the sea
or any othe mystery
It’s the eyes, with which we see
It’s the sinner in the saint
It’s the light inside the paint
