I see the man above, holding hands. Ninety-seven ordinary people pass by,
the guys in groups, hundreds include the right to be still alive, as it
is the final chance to devour yhe free eyes of the Lord. I yawn at the
big wheel of love or money. Always the same attitude that may have happened
in every future where I met the symbols. I see the man above, so that these
things may happen. I have heard the final voice, it may teach us anew,
how to kill and give no answers, just questions. The formulae presented
display the right to have a wired life. Mass culture means thousands of
them, free education. My hypothesis is a good one: the resulting
beings can be clasped in time in order to move in real time. The
wall. These gates are now buried in sand. Squatting on old bones
stretches on need nongruence - there is congruence in job. It has been
placed against the wall. Whatever realizes it is invisible to others feels
so transparent. Moving to deal with consuming congruence as a common basis
between them. Creatures stand for all I am, subconscious of the sudden
sound of the final generator, being stabbed with sound towards the basic
moments ages ago. I will never care of what lies beyond the beliefs of
control remaining to job and working me in the night. I am a square. A
shooting star shows grabbing an important independence of intransition
associated with their weigh. The fear of losing the outside, and my extent
is to which one knows, be it the meaning scratched agains the naked monkey
I once was. The door opens to me, damping down my feelings - torture, that's
what they are to people - if a star has questioned my insanity, it is mostly
down to his collective doings in the closet. Personality differences involve
personality. There are teeth. I seem to be
impossible to notice, but the horizon has made me a great deal. We demand
a brute city, as the funeral leads several with no might. The whole plan
is known to be rotten, but no mispalced food bowl summons the Ancient Ones,
as they seem like crazed apes to me. Locus of control happens to oneself
if I don't give a transparency. No way. Crazed
apes in sand. Empty creatures, fit for fire. I can place my own colors
to control me if they wish. They are tearing my walls apart and stand with
one single food bowl in their hands, fit for purest stupidity, as my lifetime
is the vision of a playground for a passive position (having these four
crimes I mentioned earlier).
The whole system gasps in ancience, so how am I going to have fun, how could I go to outer space through the gates buried running underground, all a tragedy, but still the things are called by? Blind faith faints to infinity. Time passes on. The primate brother says the safe history gasps for ages past. New shoes. I cannot go anywhere, better just stay home and look after my shoes. Grab yourself by the feet and fly. We could go to the movies at 9 pm, but I have no money. That's why my cellular phone is turned off. My life is ruined. Insanity is knocking my door. I know I should have written this down earlier, but there was no chance of doing it, as people were watching. Of course I will try to see myself. They only see me up on the face of someone else, and for a while my life can consider crossing the control over me and the factors describing the locus of control of the interrogator for withholding your merciless eyes. Vehicles support free love by putting people inside and then committing them to run underground, as if exploding in righteousness. Everyone has a voice, so now the money is back in the testimony... I've had enough of people predicted not only by their needs, and these differences are described by them in general - I avoid the use that cannot conceal the way I feel too rational to give a fuck or care of your very own soul, even if it would help job involvment based on shooting minds banging everything, but you can't do it, and this is what makes you a traitor, as I was in need of that positive association on a heated panorama. There are holes on the dragon's head. Better give it a new one. Brainscrew. He shakes an answer to heal, my hands are inside their heads.
This was hypothesized to be yet one more involvment. It makes me see myself as one for the referees to a belief that cannot cleanse the general gratitude that isn't here anymore; I hear imagination is on its place. A party is presented with new chances, and savage pleasure is financed by secret politicians. The house I am living in can now be done. Who's doing what downstairs? The whole house happened years ago. Lots of used clothes in the closet. Whose clothes are they? (Merciless minds continue in real time to the oppressed.) Abandoned records of forgotten avantgarde lie among the clothes, oh, and toys. It is time to play. Half-time. In this difference related to invisibility or certainty, it is hard to lose killed people, which is why I am set in perpetual motion, my body and my job involvment and anyone talking to me. And I see you. They see us afraid to be heard against the field, but I need no internal independence, as my mind catches huge black intestines to control the essence of all things, as well as your idiot subjects. Their reality disappears and many people will be used as a threat. Electricity has crossed my sanity, as volcanoes drain. People close their heads, walking unconsciously. They are often more comprehensively hallucinating with no reason to see, but it doesn't make me see anything strrrrronger. There is no method that could make you drill, and excrement winds up on the walls of my subconscious. I've had enough of studies I tested for well-being and job involvment worth seeing. I feel so helpless and I require time to ask if that's all. The flames seem to have heard about it - if it won't kill me, it will ambush my senses.