
Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.
Por fora:
Por dentro:
“You drew a question mark, But you know what I want. I wanna turn the card, yeah. Right back to where it was, So let’s build the brigde, yeah. From your side to mine, I’ll be the one to cross over, Just tell me it’s not the end of the line.”