I keep in mind really clearly now when the story happened. The autumn leaves had been floating in measure down to the ground, recovering the lake, where we used to swim like young children, under the sun was there to shine. That time we utilised to be pleased. Nicely, I thought we were. But the truth was which you had been longing to leave me, not daring to tell me. On that precious night, watching the lake, vaguely conscious, you stated: "Our story is ending."
The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of adore, since a long time ago. I still don't feel I'm gonna make it by means of a different really like story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I'm watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.
The rain was killing the last days of summer. You had been killing my last breath of adore, since a long time ago. I still don't feel I'm gonna make it by means of a different really like story. You took it all away from me. And there I stand, I knew I was going to be the one left behind. But still I'm watching the lake, vaguely conscious, and I know my life is ending.
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