This is in memory of my dear friend Percy Shelley. Now I'm starting to tear up and all my muscles are contracting. Every time I think about him or Giordano Bruno, it sets my head on fire.
Beautiful, and you know you'll meet again. He moved to a country where the phone lines don't go and the post office don't deliver, though on occasion I've still gotten through.
WoW! Speechless... seriously...
It's your fault, heh heh.
Beautiful, and you know you'll meet again. He moved to a country where the phone lines don't go and the post office don't deliver, though on occasion I've still gotten through.