You are the key to me.
You create my melody.
Quarter note, half note and various keys of EFG
You are needed to achieve my dreams.

To assist in my composition been assemble.
Something I can reflect back and talk about and remember.

To hear people hum my melody, if they can't sing the words.
You'll forever be the key I needed to unlock my heart.
And my imaginated mind.

As a bat swarm, with a final, coughing cough, human empathy will disappear from this vicious world. Because a strong enemy always and lawfully suppresses the weak. Cracking, apocalyptic sorrows dissolve and bind: they put secret roots where they are not needed, because self-confidence would be the master.

The primordial certainty of our dull, brain-washed senses is sweet. There is always a broken wing whispering in the brazen obsession of the word-karate left behind words. We'll put up with curdled wounds dotted with bullet coats to rush the secret of human morality, the presence of a moral soul - the common thing: We are human and not wild!

Bulls wounded in the midnight lights dance with a steaming, alcohol-bold, and will not be able to think clearly about their inviting instincts of rampage: "Are they going to be completely out of themselves?" - Our dreaded consciousness is drawing everything sharp. The secret duel camp of early cryers and late switchers is increasingly pushing its boundaries.

Idiots trapped in militant blocks, profitable profit-seekers preaching to fatty public goods, but preaching primarily for themselves; who rolls up his rolled glass beads for the cudar-obsessed future ?! The historical mare of the brainwashed collective has long since burst.
A deliberate backdrop was led by a large congregation of puppeteers. There are also conceptual troubles for unsupervised individuals who simply build something for themselves on a conscious mind.

Through the stomping lady's gibberish, she's fondled as a celebratory cockade by the torn, ***** **-nikhai.
Latino James Bond look-alikes and Fame Fatales have their grip on their fame. In the cheap places of our hearts, the black-star prison has long since been pierced by the crying word!