November is the month of the dead. my doubts sull'undici September. your phrase. her breast. our courage absentee, where are you brunette? brood. discard. "If only I had a little 'less fear." "Regret is only an illusion." remain indifferent to the monuments. compassion on the list, some trivial, ilaria chumps. moved in the middle the noise, thanks to alcohol isolated from the deeds of others, indifferent, useless and futile attempts of entertainment's sake. and think that it is not like trying certain things, if you want to call them emotions. fiction, or people pretending there remained frigate, learned life from Channel 5. there's people like that. run towards the sea. not understand anything and remain entranced. understand everything and be ecstatic. the mystery lies the charm. the charm is not anything concrete. parallel universes. we are a grain of rice in modern China. What was that noise? What was that? only a passing phase, a gap between one side and the other one? What was that noise? seemed to be close to a plane power, seemed to be near you. seemed to be near you.
is missing, at least in November, which is the month of the dead.
said this, he said nothing. seems that the government helmets or fall depending on the subjunctive do not know and I do not give a shit. I wanted to say I do not know what, I do not know what to see? struscianti women in a club, women setting in the west. how much trouble do you? make an x \u200b\u200bon the heart and go with the twist or ska dancing and not think about what life can be sad if you start thinking about what you've tried and now I feel more more more more yahoo!
0 comments:
Post a Comment