Scribbles
Scribbles
My hands are stained
With the anguishes of the past
And the toil of the weary life
But still my child
You didn't know
Cause to see that beautiful smile of yours
I harvested my tears for your life ....
My hands are stained
With the anguishes of the past
And the toil of the weary life
But still my child
You didn't know
Cause to see that beautiful smile of yours
I harvested my tears for your life ....