VII Testo
Testo VII
The movement of water, a trembling soul, have never expected, but always have known.
A serene lake, ones so lively, but the last wrinkle faded.
But his waves stand like statue, to mark the memory of a man, a loved one.
A heart divided over those who care.
This inheritance not to be forgotten.
A serene lake, ones so lively, but the last wrinkle faded.
But his waves stand like statue, to mark the memory of a man, a loved one.
A heart divided over those who care.
This inheritance not to be forgotten.
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