Bushnell Trophy Trs-25 Red-dot Sight

Droste

No more pen keyboard
but my fingers touching
van and the muse is more sincere
memories surfacing, like flowers in spring

his lips I'm tasting.
And with her here beside me
I tell you this song.

was an decadent world of greedy
fact lies
sopir for all people.
Fosser'uomini or carrion
differivan
of a blow as rats in the sewers. And who yearns
p'un smile
most can not do a good face.

put to sea to escape,
to forget my past,

to be able to deny all that I had been.
But I found my way
my shadow and its work, and the bow
the rising sun
rivolgei sadly.

As the pig in the pen:
after days of battle, to end up giving up

and the door no longer throws. His soul
s'estinto
to emulate this rabble.
donates food to a wild animal will
and forgetting the forest.

As Erasmus Dutch, de
them crazy fan, I realize I

several times that if the wise man more,
not so clever it will grow in
made after dawn.
and old fools and infants
we listen to the cries.

Sol and what are not grateful unto me, yet I am saddened
:
thousand voices without a sword not
St. more open track
and perish in the street,
that nothing is little. It hopes
appassiscon
contemplating these dances.

Two mirrors are observed
worlds are similar, in the middle
dreams
paddling like demons among the saints.
forces soon fade

because the seas are many but among them all the same, are
butterflies without wings.

I can only hope to break some glass
,

learn to fly and leave everything behind;
My muse
embrace and brighten a dark world.
perhaps be no deception
like crazy and what they do.

Purpura From Basketball

History Cast of an old man to tears in the garden
surprised caressing roses,
is the story of a young man to write
practices in an office crammed with brides.

And lose your temper and then find, buy sex
not to love: art of
few choked by thorns.
It 's a dog's world, return to smoking.

Bought soul once every year
then throw it in the toilet and download quickly,
spends days to renew their deception:
the world is a cake, eats the bread.

One day you're going to choke
and the grimace of death that you,
my eyes I'm here to sing,
seem that you had never smile.

You are the most insidious of suicide in this purgatory where
t'annidi.