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Lipnicka & Porter
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Black Hand
His black hand on my white belly and I can't even pronounce his name
The saxophone keeps on playing playing origami birds fly above my head.
I'm 15 and I miss home but only happy letters get across the sea Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
If not your eyes that saw it all I could easily pretend it was just a dream.
Dear Anna, It's good you don't keep in touch. How would we talk about it now?
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