I have the same mood as Eren with the progenitor, I have a giant parent, for hours, horror isolation, it seems, society pushes towards normal life, like normal girl, *** normal girl, and I buy 30 whores, it seems that the palaces around me are all about to collapse, I am the founder, virus progenitor, a rejectist, anonymous, black warrior, I walk around with Lilith who suggests rhymes to my ear, I see the path, Becero, Cerbero, the road of the brothel, the sky is black, it seems, also this time, how beautiful, Lost Children, chapter removed from the work, heart-opening operation, the perimeter, I have outlined in saturimeter, I need oxygen. Sometimes you put lots of sugar in ***, but it can't change the taste, there's Van Gogh, sunflowers in your eyes, baby, let your mind go, even in the dark, our shadows are the real light inside us. To live in this space, I opened a hole in my skull, we are in a strange era, strange war, strange this tune, with nothing that for me is the return to the pangea. They greet me as a black man when I walk down the street, I taught the posters to make money with fibromyalgia, they make fun of me, girl, take off your shoes, they told me that you walk on works of art, for me a beat is a table, I write quarters that break bones, take a picture of me that you get moved, my sepia wants to come out, today we are a rain of rhymes, it's not to say, I want to convert these assholes. Religious cult, dark and machine, little merciful, I am invisible to all parts of the face, they forget how precise the pleasure is to suck, epidemic of type, new SARS, zero patients, you are serious, you inject 3-4 serum in this warrior, but nothing changes, stranger, I call you gringo, you are nameless above my portrait, in tingo, in your uncovered brain, I push the pen. Sometimes you put lots of sugar in *** but it can't change the taste, there's van Gogh sunflowers in your rice paper, let your mind bloom even in the dark, our shadows are the real light inside us. Sometimes you put lots of sugar in *** but it can't change the taste, there's van Gogh sunflowers in your rice paper.