Amelia Earheart, ameliorate, what mysteries come from these cruel twists of fate? The great wide Atlantic, your canvas it seems, got lost in the middle of your own lofty dreams. What else is left from here? How does it feel, that just for one day, the rest of the land waits on your yea or nay? Electoral College, hallowed are your halls, & time will determine your triumphs and falls. November leaves, the trees climbing at the sky. Trying to get back, trying to get inside. History writers, what secrets are found in your cursive highways, in books leatherbound? Amelia darling, what went down with the ship? What pages went missing in your manuscript?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
