You spoke my language
And touched my limbs
It wasn't difficult
To pull me from myself again
And in our travels
We found our roads
You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose
And now we turn to my beautiful city
Black skies changed into blue
And my love is so wise and so pretty
But tonight I still dream of you
And touched my limbs
It wasn't difficult
To pull me from myself again
And in our travels
We found our roads
You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose
And now we turn to my beautiful city
Black skies changed into blue
And my love is so wise and so pretty
But tonight I still dream of you
И Бенедиктуко на этих фотографиях мне нравится гораздо больше, чем на всех пафосно-журнальных. Как-то... живее.