Under the pressure of our soles, there are increasingly sacrificial heads, who we have ever met in divine, and when they were caught and trampled on, as well as fate, as they were surplus. Kuruttyol is so many gray-color pigeons above us, while in a careless, unfriendly moment, Guáno's blood is on our unsuspecting heads. The handful of survivors started on the road, but only on the ground of realities.

There are so many celebrity-thistles on TV as a beneficial, promising excuse on TV, while deliberately shattering about the most necessary things; Antantic ants are now wearing the sincere lie, like the fake of the conveyor belt, while crumpled, liver-spotted hands stroke the judas.

Time, though, is still moving, but in broken -winged ribs, the conscious sorrow has been building a nest for some time; Instincts and thoughts are already wrapped around themselves, as they cannot know the firm conviction from their selfish, petty shackles.

Fearful in the ninive, a big city of coastal can rarely be rescued; Rather, he just tolerates his guest visitors. It is as if the soon -to -be -collapsed card castles, massive cobblestones, were falling out of our lives.

Our nails are carried into meat, as the points of contact have long been gone; It is hardly possible to hold on to more and more cramped. The soul has already been desperate, because liberated silence cannot help anymore!