You may even have trouble yourself, even if you crawl, unworthy, cherish thoughts that never come together enough; The dear angel scent, which makes you feel at the rose-fingered dawn, or a yellowed photo showing a forgotten wedding wedding in just as cozy shipwrecks as the rings of the trees that count on the constantly difficult collon weights of the past decades.

The unbearable lightness of life is shaking, not only on the broom of superstitious eyelashes, but also in the depths of the eternal childhood soul that we were deliberately did not show to others. With empty glue hands, like a disturbed thief, one gets drunk if he couldn't try enough luck. Grotesque mode is over and over again, and the endless time is finally cried back to missed minutes ...

The pigeon color dawn falls unexpectedly on us if you have to wake up to the still-stingy, coma body; His germination and instincts are even lined, perhaps they would like to wait for their destiny, if you could still watch the Book of Fate for us? The heart clock called the heart, like a pulled, timed bomb, threatens cataclysms at any moment, and it is not to reach the well -deserved retirement years. Cause and cause halfway away this way; It covers objects, petty gaps, cracks of cracks. The troubled mind is gone by the purposeless, meaningless clichés of reality: did it make any sense if you are unable to come out of your small alms paying?!

Even though you are struggling with sinners, the crowded universe is still lurking in your pockets, because you have long been in mind to ask others the big recurring questions: to make a bargain ease, everything else is a lie!