Little I Songtext
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Who are you, little I?
Five, four, six years, oh.
Peering from some high window
At the cold of November sunset
And feeling that if day has to become night
This is a beautiful way.
Five, four, six years, oh.
Peering from some high window
At the cold of November sunset
And feeling that if day has to become night
This is a beautiful way.
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