PAVAN
THE SLEEPING
If the night could lead to ghastly mirror of your fingernails, I know it would have been born the mystery. If you reveal it was given, I know you have for me a splendid happiness. But on the odd night swans reflected in your neck and on the morning that cleared (as emerging from a cameo delicately preserved) are you, who are the abolition of time, because your feet lie the shadows of the abyss, and your head topped with sparkling brilliance, is the announcement and the trophy.
The puzzle, reality! A single step your adorable gardener's desire to sow all magic: in his own levity fade and flee to the total extinction.
Do you feel how, on the other hand, the disturbing turn, the fragrances extraviantes stir in the umbels of silence? Are they not the promise of a heady and unexpected demise of an unexpected redemption? They tell us that now is the initiator in the ordeal, the hair-devouring birds on sparkling bonfires for the homeless.
I tell you I longed silence because the child, the awesome midnight dances and gets drunk on our faces where only palpitate and hate crime, which is the most complete form of love.
When your eyes reveal the desired signal on them has retracted the mystery. If you open the aurora boreal, if you have closed it involved the mysterious fumes that come from the blue lotus, talisman blinding blazing in your face bordered by the innocence of the pirates and the dance of a child on the glass of red foam that I rise up in your hands . The graceful priestess
dreamy smiles on your lips (just parted for the seductive song of the ritual offering), and between your fingers, as they fall from the golden sands and off the lamps, the bouquet of lilies tremble still damp I brought this morning the market.
If the night could lead to ghastly mirror of your fingernails, I know it would have been born the mystery. If you reveal it was given, I know you have for me a splendid happiness. But on the odd night swans reflected in your neck and on the morning that cleared (as emerging from a cameo delicately preserved) are you, who are the abolition of time, because your feet lie the shadows of the abyss, and your head topped with sparkling brilliance, is the announcement and the trophy.
The puzzle, reality! A single step your adorable gardener's desire to sow all magic: in his own levity fade and flee to the total extinction.
Do you feel how, on the other hand, the disturbing turn, the fragrances extraviantes stir in the umbels of silence? Are they not the promise of a heady and unexpected demise of an unexpected redemption? They tell us that now is the initiator in the ordeal, the hair-devouring birds on sparkling bonfires for the homeless.
I tell you I longed silence because the child, the awesome midnight dances and gets drunk on our faces where only palpitate and hate crime, which is the most complete form of love.
When your eyes reveal the desired signal on them has retracted the mystery. If you open the aurora boreal, if you have closed it involved the mysterious fumes that come from the blue lotus, talisman blinding blazing in your face bordered by the innocence of the pirates and the dance of a child on the glass of red foam that I rise up in your hands . The graceful priestess
dreamy smiles on your lips (just parted for the seductive song of the ritual offering), and between your fingers, as they fall from the golden sands and off the lamps, the bouquet of lilies tremble still damp I brought this morning the market.
TO THE ARRIVAL OF THE HORDES
up
Delicious
is fascinating Adorable
poisoned CASCADE CUP
About
More
And
Jellyfish "clothing
dream when will the big day
beautiful rocks Hawks Trample
RIMBAUD JEAN ARTHUR BLACK OR SUITE
He, who never dared to put a price on your dreams,
saw the guards spit out more
splendid tapestries A ellos, los mismos que un día negaron las uvas del delirio.
El Festín de las Gracias lo había maldecido.
Bebía un licor extraído de todos los pantanos.
Donde la más bella aventura se perdía en sus propios misterio.
Mientras los aldeanos le veían salir de Les Ardens.
¡A dónde iba cuando en los graneros ardían los mitos del silencio?
¿Hacía what roads of misfortune in what dark horses cried foam the sea?
Angel for his dream demon has been satisfied.
mea heliotrope With the Stars
Furies When he blew the ears
faun and his head burned by the hydra
For the angel that always lives sitting shave
self Fugitive who loved him were the cursed
The
asking their views to a hellish haven Leviathan.
They also have kissed their hands licked by larvae in disarray.
They loved the infant prodigy.
vocal Alchemist wizard punished awake.
breaks the magic keys that kept its key
And against all godliness yields the same ennui.
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