ANGLA SO VICTORIAN
The damsel cruises through the museum, she goes into an unknown mitopia, moving towards the phenomenal. When in spirituality, the silver rain falls and it rinses to her, which comes from the cosmos; her smoothes hair and plastered her effigy, Natasha sees the vesperal beauty, very wonderful. And in this moment, she begins to float between serene; she lives this pleasure femininity, stirred at the free, going smiling, emigrating in fluttering toward an altar, that glimpse the distance, while cures it silvered, now she exceeds bridges, runs hundreds of spheres and more evolutionary, when above the portal of the sanctuary, she ventures into this place, ascending a staircase, she sighs the radiant lilies from the hinterland as she advances her future galactic, reviews decorated, she astonished, for being susceptible. And once get in a gallery of infinity, she sights some ghosts, whom they invite to play in chorus. Upon request, Natasha levites far as they, she greets them with affability and hubbub, together they get to tinker among the seraphic pictures, rejoice divine forever.
Dreamer singers; the poetry of soul, for your lifes, Symphonies in love.