involve a wall of ice-blue sky, gray and gray white blue clouds. the arrow points to nowhere, straight-way into the interior of the time. a cold night, a swollen foot and toast with mustard sauce, hamburger (or corn-) yellow. the night in which I had nothing to say and wanted to say even less.
not to be flexible, not inventive. the green thing jumps and dances, it can not only croak. quakorgan be hanging by a silken thread midday in the soft, prickly, next to the raspberry. he is burned, and mirrored. why no one understands? fatal steel, so hard and impenetrable as the sea. no signs of weakness . Lightning flashes, bladed sword, the fire burns the night. no signs of weariness . The bear, like a rock in the raging surf. the others remain. victorious. I'm flying. substantially victorious. the minute-long emotional all the other miles ahead and a bloodcurdling scream, sang, quietly goes down. a cry that has no equal, and crossed over the other beaten. a cry? my cry. the horizon is burning. no signs of weakness . the song sounds loud. and no more is the sun .
hours later. a terribly old-fashioned flower umbrella tells stories from a different, more naive world. green or blue, or nix Guinness, a flock of blackbirds happily blechernden on holy ground. and we - we wait with crashing iron and role-sky loose gaffa-tape under a cloudless sky on the six correct numbers in the lottery. a picturesque scenery, wonderful as they may not be tolerable. and even the kindergarten ready gezicke a red rubber ball raging in the crowd of thousands at the moment appears neither mad nor ridiculous. to the apparent feeling drunk, dazed by light and smell. and düdeldadeldidaledadeldüm that stops at some point. later than the moment when it is too late to fly and your skin the skin of a plucked goose does not quite dissimilar. and zänkzedäng, just those few seconds to bring up the case.
and the night is icy abyss of the sea is deep blue in color. a sea, which brings to light the mass. and she, a little flushed with joy, she will be the only one of us who can not protect against northeastern snow in this blackened summer night. they also need not. those who protect themselves in the middle of summer snow already falling-, foam-like? of the distance apart. not write only, and cannibalize the moment in the light-cone draw ridicule. sometimes it is better to remember and only the unspeakable images of powerful, pulsating volume and the interplay of red and yellow not to share with others. from for the simple reason that it does not work. drawn to a miniature high boots, he is still a dwarf. a mazda will always be a mazda and gets incredibly expensive rear window stickers legs despite neither 8 nor flowing hair. This engine no longer burns on wood . and all this before, during and after the moment when I've seen blind guardian, even though they were not there. an error that is second to none and ship next to the falls on fertile ground. makes fun of the demon, because the devil is a squirrel and the cosmos our fleeting horse. the feeling, at the right place to be for almost real time. My time is different, and that's a good thing.
I thought. for now, Two weeks later, she's running well otherwise. my time. shitty different. life goes my grad too fast. a gang down, please.
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