3. August 2013

One only teardrop falling, makes the burning flames not vanish. A golden hair, he found down deep, in the pocket ground. And than, her eyes so blue are shimmering the night into a whishful fallin star. But short, to short. A razor cut this hair down deep so clean the skin. And needles pin her hypnosized a never ending tunnel drive. His driving train, occupies a special seat for only her. Always, the bathroom red signe, stays on closed.

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