forever

awards

for this scene

4evar

where god's chosen elixirs...

O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing;
How I wad mourn when it was torn

By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

gustavorofer

Eu vi, eu vi. Massa demais.