The rose was not looking for the morning: on its branch, almost immortal, The rose was not looking for wisdom, or for shadow: the edge of flesh and dreaming,
it looked for something other it looked for something other it looked for something other
The rose was not looking for the morning: on its branch, almost immortal, The rose was not looking for wisdom, or for shadow: the edge of flesh and dreaming, it looked for something other.
it looked for something other it looked for something other it looked for something other