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Last edited by sarim; 02-04-2005 at 10:11 AM.
On the mountains of hope, far away; when the yellow, crimson, misled hay
Through the pending red of sinking sun; falls down its stifling way
Settling down a bed of green; rattling brown and gold serene
Of yet charming atmosphere, All is whish is you were here
I will appreciate your opinion.
On the mountains of hope, far away; when the yellow, crimson, misled hay
Through the pending red of sinking sun; falls down its stifling way
Settling down a bed of green; rattling brown and gold serene
Of yet charming atmosphere, All is whish is you were here
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