by Stevie Nicks Her black robes trailing, sister of the moon, Intense silence as she walks in the room, The black moons in those eyes of her made more sense to me, Heavy persuasion it was so hard to breathe,
And the black widow spider makes more sound than she, She was dark at the top of the stairs and she called to me.
האתר פועל ברישיון אקו"ם
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