La pelle d’oca spessa così

Every moment can’t remain and every life won’t stay the same.
With time comes a layer of rust and our bones will turn to dust.
Everyone will fall away and every season is built on change.
With time the paint will peel and all sense will lose it’s feel.
Every cloth will start to fray and every night will become day.
With time a mold will form and what’s cold can become warm.
Every love can’t always stay and the dead will soon decay.
With time we’ll all be gone but how you lived can live on.

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