Deep in my heart longing to live in remote
it's your name into a curve bends
December trivial track down human
mind leads. Mother Earth plays with the weather
with frost sons storm
here and there a siphon. today, again,
the weather is mild, it messed up for a while
my thoughts. I have something in the morning
I write always, the night monster
inside me off drive them. I can play
dry land of deep-sea diver
week cycles were divided into small parts
Only your lap is good to have
whatever the weather. Perhaps too often
I'm on top of selfish.
I'm not a favorite child of Lady Fortuna '
still here in the middle of December
I hear the eternal endless sound
storm raging inside me leaps
hurricane is a very rowdy spot.
No one can love me,
at the same time the feeling of evil may vibrate.
The man next to me falls into tears
pulls a bottle of beer, then
a moment in unison and weeping,
a man is sometimes better moments
I understand, when she around
Cold wraps arises from sheep fleece.
The man is crying how difficult it is
inside the woman he loves is right
scattered, and the forehead is decorated with a suture.
We were the sins of why the microcosm,
and the gender stratified gay sapies
statistics broken could be a kind of hermaphrodite.
Then the world would have been quite
a strange sort of no-man's need
cry how difficult it is to a woman
The idea is that love
very strange kind.
