
In the end, we all become stories.
The past beats inside me like a second heart.

The only paradise is paradise lost.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
The past is never where you think you left it.
In the end, we all become stories.
The past beats inside me like a second heart.
The only paradise is paradise lost.
We do not remember days, we remember moments.
The past is never where you think you left it.