Beneath the clouds, across the seasons in the wild, lived a lonely girl, with a torn paper bird.
She was breathing in the frozen wind, singing in the haze and waiting for a fortune teller and missing her father...
Standing? by a river, was a weeping willow, there lived an old man, blind and alone...
He was breathing in the frozen wind, folding flying paper doves, dreaming... that one day his Izzy would bring a dove back home.
Izzy, look around, there's a flying swirling bird. He's hanging overhead and waiting for your hand. But Izzy only saw a flying paper crow, She ran to the sun and screamed into the wind. She was crying so deeply,? dreaming of a father bird, breathing so slowly, freezing near a weeping willow... alone
Jei mano protevis pries 770 metu buvo koks jotvingis, jis prie Mindaugo valdymo turbut mego muzika prie lauzo ir buvo snekorius, pasakorius, fantaziorius
Ne dėl temperatūros, o dėl to, kad lyja kas 5 minutes. Negali iškelti kojos iš namų. Čia kaip toj humoristinėj situacijoj, kai iškeli koją - lyja, grįžti atgal - nustoja lyti.
O jeigu oro temperaturai faka rodyt, nu nezinau tada temperaturos idealios. Visi pagal save megsta, ziauriai dideles, ziauriai mazas megsta tik ekstremalai