break erase into dust and desecrate
|
the message is embedded then. |
wild as a psycho killer
|
a kind of verse thriller
|
in power to cause murmuring and groaning.
|
kahals to tear to hell.
|
what not to pull the pope with a pen,
|
anal with parker.
|
there is no guy's secretive power
|
in balabol searches, except for supplying current pressure there
|
delirium of a gray artiodactyl
|
for oak food is a dictionary - and this is nonsense, not good
|
who is stupidly looking for words - he has couplets of stew
|
in verse will dig up gray phrases of fucking and lean
|
a copper basin will cover them, sooner or later.
|
change yourself - drive empty
|
and battle with us. |
not in the USA. |
there is not known to mans the suit of the cockerel
|
better because I'll hobble through the pain lame on foot
|
than poop with your mouth, but speak with your rectum
|
the seed of strength is not there. |
where mat.
|
soaring if you don't agree then ban those bastard
|
and it's harder for me to get lost in the three pines, to scrub the floor with a brush
|
why not understand that this is idle talk, just that the bazaar is clean
|
plus a hundred pounds you won’t notice how your face got into the cal face
|
plus you can’t replace your beep for cash with m t s
|
if so that they beat the lines with clubs
|
you need to think and sharpen them, and not sell this insipid scratch
|
now wild and stupid
|
carry on graters without mom.
|
per verse line without swearing.
|
weave many for the bastard,
|
without them squabbles are all wool,
|
this style is not a joy to so many,
|
make a lot of crap
|
Gods see - everyone needs it.
|
Russian given. |
fierce gift. |
but trouble. he absorbed
|
bottom of shit just blah blah blah
|
I would direct the negative into the heart directly
|
brave pepper, who has had a wound on his head since childhood.
|
when he beat Aunt Rima in the entrance for a coin.
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I would say what are you doing, you fucking goofy bitch.
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I would have recaptured the cab and forgot that I was friends.
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although the message would hardly have reached the soul
|
I would have gone down to the courtyard anyway
|
and I would tell a drunken juvenile fool to go home a disgrace.
|
but I am weak. |
like you. |
but I will find a way
|
stir up everything. |
let now like a cow on ice
|
and let me judge indistinctly,
|
but in any case, everything is clear to me and you, plus a no brainer.
|
I'm sure somewhere there was shame
|
and it will be enough for the cottony idle life to fall apart.
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I am always ready to give blood for this matter,
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and I also love my mother. God bless her. |