Hacking A Cybergun Desert Eagle

Prévert and reproached and Belair

Between cycles and countercyclical, and disagreements, I love that I attacked and disarmed once unloved. Leo Prévert, then I see a photo of Doisneau in Paris, then write some things and I face the mirror and there I am, also on a coffee table on the hill concept.

For you, my love (Jacques Prévert)

I went to the bird market and bought birds

my love for you

I went to the flower market and bought flowers


my love for you I went to

scrap market and bought chains

Heavy chains For you my love

Then I went to the slave market and I looked


But I found my love.

My words in his ink

I like my words in his ink
although sometimes there is no paper that hold

Love
there
Love does not exist.

At least we agree that is a foreign particle.
For there it leaves its mark,
not matter, however,
when you leave a huge space.
medium to medium A hole in the flesh
where
swirling in a drain will inevitably hope.

I saw a picture ex

were ex flowers

in my former garden

of my former home,

while living

a former life.

I knew full,

front and unprepared,

stunning and vivid writing

by a former photo

expropriated a former life.

And if she had died

And if she had died.

My tears would be the only eternal

would not blame among us,

memories would be good memories,

they would be impossible, as our dream,

and I would deny it but God and destination.

Dead leaves _ Jacques Prévert

Ah, I wish so much that you will will remember

In the halcyon days where we were friends

At that time life was beautiful

And the sun shone brighter than the days

Dead leaves are raked into the waste

- You do, I have not forgotten

Dead leaves are raked into the waste

Memories and unfortunately

north wind carries them

Towards the cold night of oblivion

And I have not forgotten

The song that you I sang

is a song that brings us

I loved you, you loved me

live together

Loving, loving

But life separates those who love

Tenderly, quietly

And the sea erases on the sand

Steps of lovers who are separated!

Conclusion spurious

Love does not exist,

ergo, no mass,

why then

I have an empty heart.

And because a meeting is a fact and a close encounter, I know that will never be like yesterday because you can always be better. A response Salieri. Click here.