Homes like bombed, stateless beetle nests, clouds of cotton candy, - The ****** twilight's callous, cautionary voice would have to go home: The Dark is threatening, the secret whisperer! There's still room to get home - at least for now! The landscape alone, guarded, protected, and standing - with unshakable will, raised in armor like a glorious relic, is robbed of its natural plunder.
An unknown, alien face to you is still on the panel island - tiled carpet, and as a special piece of art in ladies ears I was able to freely congratulate the wishes of my congratulations, beautiful acts! Now it was just the gassed, grizzly destruction: outside, there were unpopulated pampa grasses, alfalfa waiting for long-lasting mowing. The passion for the day's knife has faded! "Man has always been a mini-Taigatos, like a lonely one-man."
the struggle for existence had been diligently exercising her birth-fragile capillaries. An exploratory curiosity about the captivity of longing, comforting mother's lap. - Only the priceless evocation of memories remains with me: the seductive scent of flirtations, the bombshell gaze's silent and blazing body, the cry of lips, tongues
the extinction of a glowing bully in the atomic bomb moments of passions! - You can only keep it as a mini-tyrant in your all-knowing and storeroom consciousness, with a sufficiently arbitrarily captive past; This is your home, your untouchable, earthly paradise! - Great
the blazing cauldrons of injustice will boil over you if you hold your head up to the point of innocence quickly: You don't have a heavenly smile with your loyalty, keeping morals - your dreams can only be hanging on,
stubborn, self-reassuring Prometheusian renewal, - smiling faces around you; a set of towering viper nests - your being is constantly twisting. And only your heart can beat! Perhaps pointless and increasingly futile? Suicide's lighthearted, hotheaded and irresponsible intention to bring even to life a deadly plague for their incomprehensible death
