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sunnuntai 18. tammikuuta 2015

Bedtime story




In the evening the brother of his brother pounding.
Blood flows from the nose,
and contaminate the motherland.
When the morning comes the controls meet the
almanac, can produce angry
screaming queens. he at night
sleepless runs as
wandering ghost. After midnight
cooked us a miracle flower tea.
I then dive
your soul to the rapids,
and nest there dreams do.
A great philosopher, one of my thoughts
passing poked, and justice
the sword poking me.
Something important, it always feels that
breaking off, and the mind
nothing makes sense.
That idea was driving down the highway
mustang with the firm over.
They are migraine plows,
as the Northern Lights,
dancing in my mind,
pain in the wings of nerve cells in the anchor.
Then you ask. "To the tray
you meet today to hide? "
There's no point in
I can not think of at the time,
when a sledgehammer to someone
pounding brain hood,
and nerve cells Jimi Henriks
pace
Rock out ...
Halle shout loudly: HALLELUUJAA ...HALLELUUJAA ...
I fuss refuge;
under a blanket of silence I listen to my thoughts.

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