Book: Kootchie

I so want to stroke Peresvet years of life in her hair.

People go crazy, people go crazy
and one of them, I think.
Ya

Your hands crazy undress consciousness
terminates the brake and turn the ignition!

Where the birds are silent,
where no longer heard their cry,
where is many of us dislike and unmet,
where the birds are silent,
and there you stay now.

And the price for love is a handful of praise
will fall and rain, reflecting puddles
your jaded opinion with the epigram "alas."
You sing for friends, but they do not need.

Do you remember the fluffy white time?
Your singing, the world was not yet created,
you're an early soul stretched out for all.
You remember my mother cradling the stars?

So let me as thunders of the great
orchestra hall may numb:
Long live the smile on her face!
Hail to her eyes!

There is the sea smelled the smell of the first sex, and each himself tirelessly gave.

Tell me, will we be tomorrow?
Tell me, have we now?

In the sky rise of the city, similar at first glance, the clouds.

Work early in the morning. In the evening off the sofa and a black TV.

And it seems there is a reason, and it makes no sense, and like life goes on and only by.

You'll walk forward. And there is no waiting, but you think you need it.

But she whispers, "You love frowning, rude, occasionally. Somehow..."