they are to never find a path, akin to our,
an insomnia of the sun,
they are to be forever quasi-Eskimo
blonde...
but the English are *******
prunes in that department... ******* prunes!
hawk-nosed liars!
pop and the great escape
of anger...
sheer me custard-skinned
and i'll do the tøtengruß salute...
Stasi... right to poach the "free" people,
simply meaning: the impolite people...
i too wish thing were different,
and we could summarise over tea and biscuits...
but some people have never experienced
the notion of the flux, or: change...
they're still strapped to the Mary Poppins
of imagining things...
had i a son or daughter, i'd never have either...
because i wish i had wanted either...
but never care to churn a cherishing of as said:
totalitarian memorisation in me overtook
thinking, i simply stopped thinking,
memory demoniac took over:
the renegade in a Swedish village was never to be,
the internet gave the public a moral compass,
and moral superiority, meaning
that artists had to agree to a public moral
consensus, or write no art at all...
ending in? piss-poor art, or no art at all:
hence, the applause... well done;
well done. you've just invented a ****** communism
that suffocates everyone... well done...
speaking as someone who's ancestors experienced it
first-hand with the Mongolians... no!
there isn't an advert involved! you ****** up!
you little ****** crazy squatting at university
born at 5 a.m. thinking is going into the bin!
that's where it belongs... ******
i have to ways of saying tøtengruß... you,
i presume, have only one...
just you watch me mark you idiotic by a
non-existent plebiscite...
is it alright? first of all you'll soak me in honey,
then walk me into the desert, then the bees will
come... then you'll disperse...
as you have already... then you'll start to think:
who's y neighbour? should i ask him
for a spare cup of sugar?
then the neighbour will reply you:
that idiot is blasting music at 11 a.m. and
it's disrupting my sleep! lock him up!
and then you'll go among the throng and think
nothing, and comply, and just, shut, up;
like you were meant to.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
they are to never find a path, akin to our,
an insomnia of the sun,
they are to be forever quasi-Eskimo
blonde...
but the English are *******
prunes in that department... ******* prunes!
hawk-nosed liars!
pop and the great escape
of anger...
sheer me custard-skinned
and i'll do the tøtengruß salute...
Stasi... right to poach the "free" people,
simply meaning: the impolite people...
i too wish thing were different,
and we could summarise over tea and biscuits...
but some people have never experienced
the notion of the flux, or: change...
they're still strapped to the Mary Poppins
of imagining things...
had i a son or daughter, i'd never have either...
because i wish i had wanted either...
but never care to churn a cherishing of as said:
totalitarian memorisation in me overtook
thinking, i simply stopped thinking,
memory demoniac took over:
the renegade in a Swedish village was never to be,
the internet gave the public a moral compass,
and moral superiority, meaning
that artists had to agree to a public moral
consensus, or write no art at all...
ending in? piss-poor art, or no art at all:
hence, the applause... well done;
well done. you've just invented a ****** communism
that suffocates everyone... well done...
speaking as someone who's ancestors experienced it
first-hand with the Mongolians... no!
there isn't an advert involved! you ****** up!
you little ****** crazy squatting at university
born at 5 a.m. thinking is going into the bin!
that's where it belongs... ******
i have to ways of saying tøtengruß... you,
i presume, have only one...
just you watch me mark you idiotic by a
non-existent plebiscite...
is it alright? first of all you'll soak me in honey,
then walk me into the desert, then the bees will
come... then you'll disperse...
as you have already... then you'll start to think:
who's y neighbour? should i ask him
for a spare cup of sugar?
then the neighbour will reply you:
that idiot is blasting music at 11 a.m. and
it's disrupting my sleep! lock him up!
and then you'll go among the throng and think
nothing, and comply, and just, shut, up;
like you were meant to.