The head in the toilet, drinking and too many tears.
The kitchen crying, vile, but I remain motionless.
This perverse love has died, a dog is sterile. E ' a pain already seen.
often said to myself, never like you.
The moral that we want to put. What is moral? Returnable bottles.
time to time, without growth.
But at night you're crazy, fake, a man useless.
that deep then I understand, Christ was a son like you. He was the son of God, which some call a crazy king. A man is my son, only unreliable ...
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