When a proud night of star-studded panther-like hibernation, waking a comic patient on my nicely cast bed, like a whispering cry of daylight over my head. As a lunatic attacking lunatic beast, I am struck by the fierce vulture fear. Under my bones in the basket of my ribs, my weak heart continues to writhe, the hunter's night wounds.

My nightmare captures my tears in captivity. Oh, what a fateful battle you have, dear human soul! I would run into caressing mother's lap. Blessed be my dear twirling, my bald curls, - but the night's karma is dumb, murderous; as a wounded knife wounds ...

The dusky liquid stream of lunar lobes stops me like spikes of sparks. Chopped up, even human wrecks, the broken life of mass despair. Whispers, an innocent little boy whines in me. A distant, romantic memory can only be hard to understand by my crooked, rotating mind.

I'll throw away my pain-drenched agony once. Let's go and leave me forever! - As the night passed, the delicate golden rays of dawn dawn, like a redeeming Angel's hand, re-emerged from the beating heart ...