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I want to sing a song for you, because songs can tell you that my heart wants to say the words do not express export.
I do not know in your heart What kind of in the end, I do not know if you have no care about me.
course I will not say you ever love me, love. Seems to me extravagant.
I would like to know you the moment I had that feeling,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I know there will be between you and me story, but the story is the story of the end can only, after also forget, perhaps has always been himself in torment yourself! In your heart I should have always been a little girl now! Good to me, can you care about me, but you can not love me, because you have your life, how my qualifications and what kind of right to interfere with you?
fact, I think you really want you in my dreams I'll dream of you, but I wake to face reality.
like crazy I want to know your message,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I want to hear your voice, I want to receive your information, but everything is not what I want to reach, you forgotten me ? Night in your sleep, and I think you are not like you thought I?
why you can be so clear, you've gone my heart my dreams away, or should I say you are very cruel? So you go to pull off, in my world to disappear like that, you know I'm not ready.
I really can not accept the reality of short,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], so please forgive me?
I want to say let me sing a song for you, OK? Song name is - Love me, you fear it? Do you dare? I know you can not, because you do not have the right to accept any kind of love,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], you can not afford.
let me sing a song for you,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the song is called -
let me sing a song for you, song name is - .
let me sing a song for you, song name is - able to resist.
let me sing a song for you, song name is - your look is not the same as before but also a little sad.
thank you to my memories, and your days together be happy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], whether he is not will continue, whether he is not will be a memory, I have met, because of you together days, you can let the rest of my life my future is not alone.

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.