I've decided to write a play kinda based on the song and some of the song from the cd. I've been drawing up characters from the play i've done four of seven so far so lok out for them also ight put up scene of the play lol.


Master of my heartMaster that I love, Unto your sweet surrender I give my heart. My true love, My light and dark, Day and night, My air to breath, My food and water to survive, Your love is more valuable than these. Unto you I give my love, The glowing entity that is bound in my heart, And is only set free for you. I give you the key to it's lock. The carer, The protector, The master of my heart. My closest friend, My truest of loves, My freedom. You are all of tis and more. I am slave to my love, And you now the master of the heart that bindMaster of my heart
--
Watashi wa Yoko desu~~ I am Yoko~~ Je m'appelle Yoko~~ Me llamo Yoko~~ 我是Yoko~~
--
"I must be brave, come come what may, can I be saved? Is there a way? At the opera tonight" Repo the genetic Opera rocks
--
Watashi wa Yoko desu~~ I am Yoko~~ Je m'appelle Yoko~~ Me llamo Yoko~~ 我是Yoko~~
So Siobhan, are you and the bf ready for the holidays? What are you getting him, hmm?
Glad to see you again!
--
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
--
"I must be brave, come come what may, can I be saved? Is there a way? At the opera tonight" Repo the genetic Opera rocks
--
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
--
"I must be brave, come come what may, can I be saved? Is there a way? At the opera tonight" Repo the genetic Opera rocks
--
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How is your Isle? Mine is getting blustery and cold! May see flurries before the weekend comes. How have you been Siobhan?
--
Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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