MEET ME AT NIGHT

Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold 
But with you forever I'll stay

Were going out where the sands turnin to gold

Put on your stockins baby, `cause the nights getting cold

And maybe everything dies, baby, that's a fact

But maybe everything that dies someday comes back.

Bruce es un grandioso escritor de poesía romántica.Escalofríos, ever.
Atlantic City está de esta guisa.