I was five and he was six. We rode on horses made of sticks. He was black and I was white. He would always win the fight. Bang bang, he shot me down. Bang bang, I hit the ground. Bang bang, that awful sound. Bang bang, my baby shot me down. Seasons came and changed the time. When I grew up, I called him mine. He would always laugh and say. Remember when we used to play? Bang bang, I shot you down. Bang bang, you hit the ground. Bang bang, that awful sound.

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LeS fiLLeS qUi oNt tOuJoUrS éTé La PoUr. Abonne-toi à mon blog! MoI La CrEaTrIcE dE cE bLoG! MoI LyCéEnNe. - DeViNeZ pOuRqUoI? MoN cOeUr EsT eMpRiSoNnEr PaR lEs RoNcEs.

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