Luyện nghe bài hát Cold Son

At the
they go on weekdays
It hours
Just to that thirst

heels
And a post rate
Bad for your
toes

To my wheel well getting close
So say
The reject the rose
Dont stay

On

it feels
Like the stuffed with feathers
gum
Just holding it

A son
I am
son
I am

You can it
But it wont come
Its a
So

It gets
youre old
And
Takes no leverage to make me

To my wheel well getting close
The grows
conjecture and accept the rose
Dont high

On

Who was it said
The world is my
I like a nympho
in a cloister

son
I am
son
I am

Face
You ahead
Victim of your rival
me

Face
You ahead
to the bitter pretensions
me

son
I am
son
I am