The writers of heaven put their feather pens down ear to the conch shell.
The phantom limb of suffering finger painting the calligraphy of love
I see all of speech a refutable quote, all of language a silence not yet served. İs there a holy place where anywhere at all an inch not yet found?
Gel Ya HU
The phantom limb of suffering finger painting the calligraphy of love
I see all of speech a refutable quote, all of language a silence not yet served. İs there a holy place where anywhere at all an inch not yet found?
Gel Ya HU
Category
🎵
Müzik