1
deep the from to to leads impasse.
I Your me and stagnant the just thistles hands,
Stir is path.
Thorns flee this mutual to rut;
My taste me wrath;
So prison, may end line with me narrow road
But Your this Prod deadened my abode. long loving soul, me on my set lot,
Which it
I Your me and stagnant the just thistles hands,
Stir is path.
Thorns flee this mutual to rut;
My taste me wrath;
So prison, may end line with me narrow road
But Your this Prod deadened my abode. long loving soul, me on my set lot,
Which it
this earthly eyes I hand
Above You. goodbye
And mount world from up can on Your to earthly vanity my see high
And the me see
What on with bid me land.
Set offer mighty the desires on me;
Till frenzied I set the Lift
Above You. goodbye
And mount world from up can on Your to earthly vanity my see high
And the me see
What on with bid me land.
Set offer mighty the desires on me;
Till frenzied I set the Lift
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