In a very, very long time he loves music, and he forgot about music he wrote, then he loves the music again. I follow your tracks till the smoking room. It take a great mash but all I can smell is your perfume. And I say: All this meanings in miss-old houses are up-side down. And all their ghosts and the walls even know they not make a sound. He stops and raises in night, right, basically Round my head trough my hair, nervously. He smiles and I think he used to say the love doesn't comes for rightly In all that you know, you know me, well. And all that you've seen, you've seen my personal hell. Where you stand, you stand on me. Follow your sound to a crowed room. Like a mother singing to a chair, a good night moon I've been lost, but I've been found Less is more, stay pure, stay poor. What do you think of running away? Don't even answer cause I know what you'll say. In all that you know, you know me, well. And all that you've seen, you've seen my personal hell. Where you stand, you stand on e.