It's not only the blue birds that await the
songs of spring, holding your hand
turns nightmares into dreams.
The winters a little longer, the path
a little gray, but as long as your
beside me, I know we'll find
our way.
songs of spring, holding your hand
turns nightmares into dreams.
The winters a little longer, the path
a little gray, but as long as your
beside me, I know we'll find
our way.
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