Prayor
I’m just begging for your grace,
An’ I know that we’re not worthy,
We’re a disgusting human race…
But I know you’re with me, here,
Holding my hand, smiling gently,
Carrying me when I am sear {= dry, withered},
Guiding me when I am living faintly…
Свидетельство о публикации №105060201085
Михаил Холомеев 01.07.2005 16:30 Заявить о нарушении