Ask for Chinese translation of Gollum Carbon yellfor

Everyone at Ingrid Michelson.

The lyrics are sometimes in the morning.

When I wake up, I see your face.

But you're in a new life.

In a new love, in a new place.

Oh, and the heart holds many hands.

My dear, I'll let you go at this time.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Now I feel good, but now it just takes time.

You can see how much I've grown up.

The love of making space, the new love.

Now, my feet don't walk alone.

Oh, and the heart holds many hands.

I like it when I let you go.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

I am willing to love, I am willing to love.

I am willing to love, I am willing to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone wants to love.

Everyone needs love.

Everyone wants to love.

Everyone needs love.

Everyone wants to love.

Everyone needs love.

Everyone wants to love.

Everyone needs love.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

Everyone, everyone wants to love.

Everyone, everyone wants to be loved.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

A year after graduating, I was given a working teaching writing class. Teaching is a profession that I never seriously considered, but several of my stories have been published. I didn't hesitate to accept the job because it would allow me to wear a tie and go to Mr. Davis' name.

My father's same name, and the people I like to imagine confuse the two of us. "Wait a minute< someone might say, "do you mean Mr. Davis's retired man, or Mr. Davis's esteemed scholar?" The position was at the last minute, and I had two weeks to prepare, and one period I was searching for a briefcase (briefcase), standing in my dressing mirror, repeating the words, "Hello, class."

I'm Mr. Davis. "Sometimes I give myself a positive voice. Sometimes I have a voice.

But the day finally came, and I was nervous that the real Mr. Davis was there. I don't sound like a thoughtful professor, but a 12-year-old boy. I came to the leaves stuck in the maple shape design class.

I've put myself away from the orange architectural drawings. I saw nine students at a long table. I put the cards, and the students wrote their names and put them in their breast pockets as I asked.

Well," I said. "Okay, let's go. "Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I never wanted to go beyond this moment.

I've been thinking about how students would be the first to speak and offer their thoughts and perspectives on the events of the day. I thought I would sit at the table and overlook the forest with my hands. Every student will shout.

Calm down and you'll get you. Is it one at a time? Is it one at a time?