The houses are somewhat similar I Guess, like We so hopelessly, alas, far I You feel to the pain subcutaneously,with your Palm touching the strings fall To tears And to breath is not enough space To moan through his teeth To the noise in his temples And crying with some funny consistently, And the smell of Jasmine leaving in verses,Saying that We like something similar To fingertips Before ringing in the ears To whisper, scream, shivers drogie To feel You and I won’t disturb you