but even if not it can not be , a memory, a wave passing to the west, black ink , a trial and has always been a fantasy of white blood cells to change, the red blood cells to whatever important, because what I get is something that does not bother to say hello , because something else is expected , but what is it's great , we should rejoice in every moment you can not do anything do, because one day it will be finished , we can not do anything , then there everything changes, it explodes in every corner , you have to stop , it's going too fast, a treasure trove of chips and not just black cats as if you had the power to bring happiness , but just do something else after a while , it comes by, it's a matter of minutes, hours later, I can always make an effort , it bumps into the ceiling, insulation problems , but I know what happens , an end that is repeated from time to see what I know a little to the right , but not quite as in the choice to see what could sing a little like home , people coming , big breasts attached to a head swinging , laughing , nothing to say , I see what happens , a hole in provision for the night, a dead the song last year and suddenly a swimming amidst slices vinasse deep thought , but when I think of cabinet , I do not know what emotion is transported me into another world , because now I am a man, it is a fact, but for twenty years I plant stories that do not end up, it does not work , it's a nice razor, but sometimes it cuts in an impatient effort because the sidewalk is in a situation that can not stand death in the day, it was not until the night to find that the lack light