Dark bird of bright ideas,
in your womb infinity of space.
I make a deal with you, my bloody ideals,
they don't disturb us - careless of masses.
Oh Jesus what am I doing wrong
where is the purity of loosing races
destruct, by hammer blow in asphalt faces?
such questions are an always fall...
My lowly dark bird
© Copyright: Герыч, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112103104496
Свидетельство о публикации №112103104496
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