i may be sleeping with my eye open, but my mouth is always ready to eat your house. my head is ready to steal your food and my knobby ankle always takes what belongs to it by definition.
the revolution in her bed will inevitably end with the bloodshed of a neighboring, weakened link that is not worthy of being on the same wave with a flying ship on wheels with golden wings.
the son with a weapon in his own hand - went to take someone else's life, pulling out of his own consciousness, something like memories of his own mother....
hatred of one's own neighbor has grown above the blue sky, from which bombs and long-range missiles are raining down on the heads of innocent people every day...