In the time of winter a man is sluggish, when spring is in his heart he is wanton.
Oh, oh, I am all aflower, now with my first love I am all afire, a new love it is of which I am dying.
My innocence plays with me, my shyness pushes me back.
Oh, oh, I am all aflower, now with my first love I am all afire, a new love it is of which I am dying.
Oh, oh, I am all aflower, now with my first love I am all afire, a new love it is of which I am dying.
My innocence plays with me, my shyness pushes me back.
Oh, oh, I am all aflower, now with my first love I am all afire, a new love it is of which I am dying.
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