Wish that I had known all along: Nothing for the singer, all for the song. From Gloria, in 1985 when Spanish screams and broken water flooded the hallway. If I had read before my mind was brick, I'd have a good head on my neck. Instead, in a hospital bed, I count gold, as the knots in our spines render us equal. You will leave me. When will you leave me?

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN