In July, the sea sparkles with fire.In July, the sea sparkles with fire.
What? I drink blood with my axe. But hot lips look out Looking north with bright red lips. Maybe it’s because of binocular loss. Then I am a blind poet.
What? I drink blood with my axe. But hot lips look out Looking north with bright red lips. Maybe it’s because of binocular loss. Then I am a blind poet.