each time its history

each time its history, its people, drinking, his room, his sleep and then comes what would happen one day as another ad at the end , in the belief that a new sensation and if it were possible , I start to dream , life before death, before the meat sauce , Wednesday, Thursday, Friday , incredible, this time is strong, it allows you to go further how could I do otherwise everything is taken , soon I must be ready , but when I get it to be , I must find the right balance , it must exist and to me this roof that hides the sun, I should have brought a ladder, but how to predict what is not provided , then I do something else , I move , I walk to position myself out of trouble , they are many , I do not see that but maybe this is a printing and if I was drowning in worries, but I have to be responsible , it is not my desire but I have to, it is a moral obligation that I needed to be sure to keep the head out of the water , it saves me the grand tour , when I close I start to get nervous because skipping wins myself I finally arrived, I see, I hear , I lose that I do not win , how am I closer to the action that plant me , this is a unique case in every part a kind of spring that gives one who knows why he did it, the opportunity to jump , then it depends on the day if Monday is tiring , if Tuesday is ravioli , if Wednesday is in a room , if Thursday is worse if it's Friday the limit is approached , it is finished on Saturday the counters are put , it is a passage in February , laugh while there is still time to go out without the feeling of wasting time and it is closed more I know how to open the mouth