Hírek | Tagok | Chat | Fórum | Képtár | Cikkek | Koncertek | Zenekarok | Bejelentkezés |
The islander slips into hiding And takes to his heels Out of dark Northland The murky house of Sara He whirled out of doors as snow Arrives as smoke in the yard To flee from bad deeds There he had to become someone else He must change his shape As an eagle he swept up Wanted to soar heavenward The sun burnt his cheeks The moon lit his brows |
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