Nobody knows. How to watch a sunset, I thought, if our eyes can not see beyond? Why bury the rubble of lives by impersonal when we exist?
Nobody knows. Blessed are those who claim it. Life is not eternal, and drinks her morning opaque transparency at all times, weaving the thread of gold and rust, strong and brittle upon which we roam. The mountains wring the land crumples and my inland seas, they, empty. I dreamed the other time a new rose garden in the underworld, she indulged them, poor thing. A journey to the center of the Earth is therefore no reason to have intercourse that way tonight as I binds me to the chair of setbacks lost.
Nobody knows. Remember, reminds me that I do not know, I know only too knew nothing. Futures tumultuous pasts inert, this fixed, the interlude in my room, the row of the theater, the bend of your projects. What did you for? I would simply tell you that the surprise does not surprise me since I took over this ephemeral freedom. For the first time I whipped the reins with the grip of a rebel, I picked up the illusion on my body said, "so I shocked. Considering that this story is no longer realize that I will become again a slave, even if in your heart, you must remain aware that my servitude will end.
Nobody Knows But I Do. How to quit the yoke of another? Nobody knows but me ... The culmination of many years to endure the capricious scars of my being told me to escape to freedom eternal. And the volcano rumbles quietly flowing magma his carmine, moorland plateaus and greenery of a revival, my ocean evolve into the direction of a bed a virgin, and the clouds will be slashed while dawn to dusk successor, enlighten me with human dignity. I see hope in this tunnel, that light in the dark as j'occulte.
Nobody knows. Blessed are those who claim it. Life is not eternal, and drinks her morning opaque transparency at all times, weaving the thread of gold and rust, strong and brittle upon which we roam. The mountains wring the land crumples and my inland seas, they, empty. I dreamed the other time a new rose garden in the underworld, she indulged them, poor thing. A journey to the center of the Earth is therefore no reason to have intercourse that way tonight as I binds me to the chair of setbacks lost.
Nobody knows. Remember, reminds me that I do not know, I know only too knew nothing. Futures tumultuous pasts inert, this fixed, the interlude in my room, the row of the theater, the bend of your projects. What did you for? I would simply tell you that the surprise does not surprise me since I took over this ephemeral freedom. For the first time I whipped the reins with the grip of a rebel, I picked up the illusion on my body said, "so I shocked. Considering that this story is no longer realize that I will become again a slave, even if in your heart, you must remain aware that my servitude will end.
Nobody Knows But I Do. How to quit the yoke of another? Nobody knows but me ... The culmination of many years to endure the capricious scars of my being told me to escape to freedom eternal. And the volcano rumbles quietly flowing magma his carmine, moorland plateaus and greenery of a revival, my ocean evolve into the direction of a bed a virgin, and the clouds will be slashed while dawn to dusk successor, enlighten me with human dignity. I see hope in this tunnel, that light in the dark as j'occulte.
Journal , Sebastian Asran Zala Charles
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