Peace is sought by all, in words very
cited with heart and love.
Someone to please her and she hopes there, but
longer it goes on, this is a chimera.
to defend peace becomes war, people killed
going underground.
We are all armed, all in defense,
look askance at his outstretched hand.
with stones or blades or bombers kill
peace, today as yesterday.
Millanta dead bring home the message
'rest in peace', but the peace is over.
And this peace, the cat is praying
calls at once.
But there is a peace that you dream,
is that of the senses, no one craves.
You play only one game with the ball
running, fast, looking for his clone.
You go down the field, ninety minutes, or
am ninety years, those experiences.
Then there's the recovery, then the supplements, the more time passes more
are heavy.
Then, without pause, there are penalties,
to burn, stunted, the last fires. You can try the
pastiglietta, for
make one more, but it matters little.
Maybe you still can enjoy
but is no longer the same pleasure.
No more love to give the push, only
chemistry provides the grit.
Proceed to the coin toss, heads or tails
is no longer matter.
There is also the risk of ' doping
is positive if you have to do outing.
It 's always a source of pride to be manly, but with the help
becomes childish.
The referee blows his whistle, the time has expired,
step is uncertain, the hoary head.
It leaves the field to end the game, there is another
race, this is over.
It goes away, there is a layer of earth,
peace is achieved, the war is over. For this peace
the cat has a date, to the Greek Kalends
be postponed.
pregaiolo Photo of the cat has been stolen, with the agreement,
cited with heart and love.
Someone to please her and she hopes there, but
longer it goes on, this is a chimera.
to defend peace becomes war, people killed
going underground.
We are all armed, all in defense,
look askance at his outstretched hand.
with stones or blades or bombers kill
peace, today as yesterday.
Millanta dead bring home the message
'rest in peace', but the peace is over.
And this peace, the cat is praying
calls at once.
But there is a peace that you dream,
is that of the senses, no one craves.
You play only one game with the ball
running, fast, looking for his clone.
You go down the field, ninety minutes, or
am ninety years, those experiences.
Then there's the recovery, then the supplements, the more time passes more
are heavy.
Then, without pause, there are penalties,
to burn, stunted, the last fires. You can try the
pastiglietta, for
make one more, but it matters little.
Maybe you still can enjoy
but is no longer the same pleasure.
No more love to give the push, only
chemistry provides the grit.
Proceed to the coin toss, heads or tails
is no longer matter.
There is also the risk of ' doping
is positive if you have to do outing.
It 's always a source of pride to be manly, but with the help
becomes childish.
The referee blows his whistle, the time has expired,
step is uncertain, the hoary head.
It leaves the field to end the game, there is another
race, this is over.
It goes away, there is a layer of earth,
peace is achieved, the war is over. For this peace
the cat has a date, to the Greek Kalends
be postponed.
pregaiolo Photo of the cat has been stolen, with the agreement,
blog from "Cats and misdeeds" of Mamit,
whom I thank, hug and kiss and cuddle natalinevolmente .
The dedication, strictly anagram, is LABEL
0 comments:
Post a Comment