| The bloody wheel hides behind the horizon, the same, only white, kill, kill a dream
 | 
| In the bathroom by the washbasin, a demonic pill for a pale ** alnic.
 | 
| I don't let people in here, I'm always busy urgently, stuck forever, like a sectarian,
 | 
| demon of fear.
 | 
| "Open Roma" - go fuck yourself!  | 
| Have you seen rusty tiles?
 | 
| Rough plaque, waffle shaft lips like ice,
 | 
| Give white drops to them with scarlet ones, sprinkle their whole mouth with spice, invite them.
 | 
| Rake sunken pipes in flight.  | 
| Have you seen old carpets?  | 
| BUT?  | 
| soiled pile,
 | 
| Why does she need a pipe cable?  | 
| A difficult question, caressing a hackneyed flower with your fingers
 | 
| Between the legs, like that faded sheet of roses, the eyes are clear as a spring - this is the end.
 | 
| They are pure of shame, this is the end, more menacing than weight, the intrigues of the demon of all -
 | 
| This body is young in sweat for crazy pleasures, children of Caesarean.
 | 
| Tell me, too, that the nets of the demon are being pulled not to hell, it’s another senseless to drive something
 | 
| He himself is attracted by shamelessly spread legs and a shaved wet honeycomb.
 | 
| Mmmmm, go away, not because of the article, but because of love: "yes, don't be stupid don't be stupid"
 | 
| A schoolgirl with a raised sweater, next to a f**king boy, without a bazaar will give
 | 
| kl * tor you.
 | 
| New flight, unloved world, unloved time, unloved male cancer girl in
 | 
| bathroom *et.
 | 
| Calm as ice, and hands warm the camp, the other has already stuck, clapping into the astral
 | 
| Dangerously baby, passionately baby, for some reason hastily threw off the white bows from her head
 | 
| baby,
 | 
| But the evening will embrace and forgive, chastity will take away not sadness, from now on you will grow,
 | 
| dear, and grow.
 | 
| Under someone's quotes, in the little head, pulsing youth,
 | 
| children of infected packs,
 | 
| Courage courage courage courage become a cancer and give, welcome to the social
 | 
| barn.
 | 
| Drug tower paradise, come to me baby, burn out.
 | 
| Bows in the mud, ha, but we are not princes, worn out by a viscous maiden,
 | 
| but alas, everything is on her ointment
 | 
| Here he cut down his balancer, wine and snow.  | 
| Will ask again. |