Nothing I can do
There is nothing I can doI've cried, lied, and sighed all over you
The decision is yours to make
I will try to be patient for your sake
Nothing I can do
There is nothing I can doIliketoflyaway commented on Nothing I can do
08-17-2012
08/18/2012
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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