Babadu.
I'll ask you.
We've never had a bird in the air.
She's never seen a singer.
We've never, we've never, we've never,
we've never, we've
never been to get back to this.
They saw you drinking
at a fountain,
which wasn't me.
They saw you undressed in the morning,
with a beret and a beret.
While with me you undressed not even at night,
with a big bottle, a big bottle.
They saw you lift the bra up,
the bra up to your chest.
Oh, how true!
Then you said to me, poor thing,
give your *** to the toilet.
Then you went away with your friend,
the big chick.
Both of you to do something important,
important,
unique and great.
I'm always at home, I don't go out much.
I think only, I'm mutating.
I think of delusions, of big business.
I think of a Thai woman.
But the exceptional business of a big chick is being normal.
So, normally,
I went out after a week.
It wasn't so cold.
And normally,
I met a *.
I don't know if you know a *,
optimistic and left-wing.
We
didn't do anything,
but I was left alone,
alone like a loser.
Turning a little bit,
I met a guy who had lost himself.
I told
him that in the center of Poland,
you don't even lose a child.
A child.
He looked at me with a face a little bit upset and told me,
I'm from Berlin.
I was in
Berlin with my friends.
It was a little bit sad and very big.
But
I broke down.
I go back home and I'll put on my mudan.
Before climbing the stairs, I stopped to look at
a star.
A star.
I climbed the stairs three times and I lay down on the sofa.
On the sofa.
I closed my eyes a little bit and with sweetness I left the acrobat.