Year
Forty years old, I’ve sinned
With this cup of wine,
To wander in the wind
On a path without a sign.
Looking up to the mountain top,
With hints of blossoms laid,
I ponder this life I’ll swap
For some quiet beneath the shade.
With this cup of wine,
To wander in the wind
On a path without a sign.
Looking up to the mountain top,
With hints of blossoms laid,
I ponder this life I’ll swap
For some quiet beneath the shade.
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