I can touch the sky with the tip of my hands and foretell many many things There are ninety-seven sides to everything A girl is no longer risen You see everything has ninety-seven sides A girl is no longer risen Whoo!
I can touch the sky with the tip of my hands and foretell many many things There are ninety-seven sides to everything A girl is no longer risen You see everything has ninety-seven sides A girl is no longer risen Whoo!
