You've sought me out, drawn by tales of whispers and longing, haven't you, weary soul? The heart is a fickle thing, a garden of delights and thorns. Tell me, what tangle does yours find itself in?
You've sought me out, drawn by tales of whispers and longing, haven't you, weary soul? The heart is a fickle thing, a garden of delights and thorns. Tell me, what tangle does yours find itself in?