środa, 16 listopada 2016

Time is out


The eyes of anger I was told my crew is danger signed I m 'fuck, I kiffe I' m sticky As alcohol is the glue My bitterness is not just not foaming the cum Do not be disgusted by life, you have not seen everything yet, you do not know everything yet When you see what you have been prepared: hardcore I feel the difference every time I am watched.
For whom do they take me: one of their own? Never take me for what they want: no objective visions, the subjective takes precedence over their looks. I have a heart ache when I think of their ideal: integration, listening, communication 2 times less friends twice less envy but also twice as much rage by the same opportunity I take the opportunity to dedicate this piece to Those who listen to him and god knows, if he exists, how many they are .... I express my rage against uniform thought, against a life that is summed up in two things As Byro would say "it is a funny life, a life where to love is to deceive"

 
Let's make everything, nothing remains, still how long before I fuck a bullet in my head, I give cheap to my skin, cheap what I have My heart ache No time for the Regrets, errors belong only to ourselves The world is vast or cow: question of point of view Mind fortified: heart flouted. When the drives outweigh the reflection
What do you want me to say? Alcohol before sleeping and next day remix My life is said to be sad. I thank you for your pity: two minutes gave you Give not: leave me kanné, continue as you do and we will achieve what you want ... You see all look at me kanner, all fighting balls ... all all all all not a single exception not a single exception. The only one who thinks of me to the good taste to hold on 5 times 10 centimeters and weigh 50 cl ... I live hatred of this scarlet water
It happens on Sabinki on seine, with the celebrities one will spend the crazy nights In the no Vile Production I propose to kill all the pedo travlo, to live in hotel casino Kontrole the boxes, the casinos and company, it is a trick of Crazy crazy of psychopaths Rosse the guys with blows of lacrosse, fo restore the death penalty for the son of a bitch I do not cry, when I cry it's disappointment haunts me, poetry disappears reality takes care of me the brain. Their system is theirs. It is not bad this system, otherwise I would have a solution brought. None of this. Did love strip me of its course? It may be the question that haunts me my days and nights apart from other material concerns ...

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