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Chau Hoai Thanhchim and still singing Ban Mainben breath in the bowl of children counting the reverse side of the gate was closed from the previous two-year-sad sad and dividing the world to become small and small hands are tightly tough, noest, lunch, afternoon , the darkness stretched the rope to squeeze the stations across the translation area, cut the lane in a minute of negligence that counted all the europe of the one who had a smile with a smile of a smile. It was still a lighthouse. Mirror Mirror, embroidered and sangem believed sadness and sadness and still singing in a morning ..

. Tran Bich Huong Mai this tomorrow street with the sea to separate from the sad ..
in the days of distance, the way to be in and the street needs to be clean away ... to green to the end * will be a few days away from each other, please see me in the future and the waves are strongly tossing with green again like the story of us. Wide the crossroads sometimes meet fallen falls and millions separation and remember to remember on each piece of stone without anyone remembering that even thousands of times I cried in the sampling samples to sit down by the side of the road alone in a crowd of the distant clouds are metaphoric nostalgia as the old days are the raindrops Sad is the basic station with a separator that has been struggling between the wind of the wind, this afternoon is still standing that sorrowful music between the nostalgic nostalgic ones - small streets leaning their feet to take each foot of their feet.

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