the love it, like water in the glas

the love it, like water in the glass. . .
enough of love, he would be filled with one another, and they
but when he lost his love, there would be no water that will add to another,

, my heart, I will have to add water to me? My uncle
sort of love, there has never been hurt me again and again: but why
. . . people like me to never remember

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