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Westmorelandism Room

This night, it's raining again,
with memories that may be wound in the hear,
which should be wound to heal,
which I hope nothing ever happened,

I remember when my father went and we started hungry,
not unusual for
me to live on the streets,
in my time yet understand the meaning of a divorce,
which destroy all the wonderful things that
once I have,

it is reasonable at this time I envy you who live happily in the beautiful situation of a house,
things that I always give the dark with my life,
no self-esteem for my life continue to survive,

perhaps
a moment could I forget,
with a liquor which is currently my handheld,
or scraping the glass on my arm,
i will do everything, i want to forget.

but if i sober from my hangover last night,
this wound in my increasingly feel ,
at the moment I have understood how beautiful in love,
no dairy thing I get since
I live on the streets,


-Last Child (English version)-

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