I was walking through the woods, thinking about christ. If he was a carpenter, I wondered what he charged for bookshelves.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
I was walking through the woods, thinking about christ. If he was a carpenter, I wondered what he charged for bookshelves.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.