Use the drag handle located on the right to drag the titles up and down to order your loglines.
GENRES: Other
One day, India visit her best friend, America and exclaims: Yo yo, Hippy man! Wazz up, bro. ! America: Yep! I am fine...Quite rocking. Next day, America visit India and exclaims: America: Hii dude, seems you gonna cry! What wrong....may I help you and turn your problem into a nutshell? You need, any sort of nuclear installment, national security...? India break silence: Dear, kal mein aapna Hindustan ko kho diya hai...kya tum usse wapas lekar aah sakte ho...?!
GENRES: Musical
Lay stretch brother! The soul's your entity When mingles with a place, division writes in your fate Middle the borders welcomes your home Safest you are! Until pointed wires curse your little life Foot prints of those penetrate the land of one's own or bite master's apple; sure bullets shows thy path And hell scratch thy back. Peace after havoc, havoc after peace... Mine earth beneath me, your's there As seems one's own monarch; why lay in state of play and be a domestic frog of its well? Retreat to your's, the neutral heavenly home. Albeit civil race seeks joys of generation But seven colors leap your fastened heart, and you only a gender; no name neither shame Like a whitish beard soul, in loss of kith and ladybird Afar top snowy hills, lost somewhere beyond the world. Bury in your lease, the golden treasure of scaleless pleasure; hide until the aged greats discover out the sand belong to no men An antidote against one's own.
GENRES: Musical
Bridge upon that I flew to her An odyssey that succored till by ladybird Reddish the red rose and brightest the moon beam; dreamt our future harvest All hath to sprinkle seeds, the end Before to ripe, into barbarist's sharp strike. She mast her vessel and bye bye Waves though foretell mine water drops O'young heart, your's ladder is your If thou love not lie. Ribbon a red in my pages I writ; thy passionate words bore thou pink lips; mask black still silhouette I though think As Greek the honor, legend inks the horse of troy Her was the master, who mend me ladder In crowning crescent moon and, Red sparkle in mine tombstone.
GENRES: Film-noir
"Film is the picture derived out of the lyric, placed before wide lens and lights. Our life, is itself, a film of day to day and its lyric has been written by Omnipotent God. Our life, alike film is placed before the light and dark, joys and sorrows; thereby, performing our scheduled act as per pen downed by Omnipotent God."