Hanging tree performance dreams

He was deeply concerned about this step -by -step, apocalyptic earth order. Invisible, infectious, circling atomic jets are pregnant fruits and vegetables. From the harons of the rotten furrows, even the gillys and worm-fenes have long been extinct or fled. They took their tent pain like some. Modern man, with modern digital drone tools and the needle-pointed destinations of target designs, still crafts his fellow human beings.

Spirally wrapped in snake -like maze -feared -no longer and may not be a solution; Others dictate not only the statutes of the game, but also -perhaps -in the earthly confusion, the mere existence of existence. In the gray prison of concrete frame, even the smell of formalin is stagnated and degraded into an increasingly unbearable nausea.

The robe of wounded souls is now increasingly ravens to tear, wrinkles, as if it were a bunnied Prometheus who could never be rid of underworld vulture, stolen the fire for the withered people. As an uninvited guests, Katyusa was wandering around, bombshell, while a crumbling machine is screaming into the melodies of the Ruttering Winds.

The replaced, former childhood dreams are now criminal on the appealing hanger of life to you. They still wanted to dream of a livelier future, but maybe hopeless; Pale cheese-moon would illuminate the messages of mystical flyers with Pisla tiger nails ...

A tiny, innocent lie is enough for someone to press that particular red button, and while life is so fragile as the grass that nature or human feet can be trampled at any time, we hang on to be tolerated, forced on the degree of chessboard, either straw or waxy, inanimate!