Blue jeans, white shirt
Walked into the room anda know
you made my eyes burn
It was like, James Dean, for
sure
You’re so fresh to death &
sick as cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I
grew up on hip hop
But anda fit me better than my
favourite sweater and I know
That cinta is mean, and love
hurts
But I still remember that day
we met in December, oh baby!
I will cinta anda till the end
of time
I would wait a million years
Promise you’ll remember that
you’re mine
Baby can anda see through the
tears?
Love anda lebih than those
bitches before
Say you’ll remember, oh baby,
say you’ll remember
I will cinta anda till the...
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