Hold My Hands

If the piquet, you always sit down in the correerlake of life

Then, diving between the ruins of shipwrecked

And insist them self to hiking the hills problem which is too high

At present, you are aparting

Your face looks melancholy in the middle of dewy grass

What occur dear ?

Holding my hands

I will be invite you to running through the curve way

Accompany you to fly with the great wings

Forget your  ambitions and laugh with me

Under the blue of sky which depend on white clouds above it…