After so many years of constant ferris wheel she painted her hungry eyes in mourning. She told her shadow: I don't miss him, I feel empty, there is nothing, I can't. I want to love him, but it can't be, as I tell him and again to home, to the home sweet home of the lost years.
And the pain and the screams broke windows and love made a seven and He jumped out of bed. They made up stories, tried attempts and continued killing what was already dead. Black flowers grew under her kisses.
After so many years of thick routine, she searched in the mud for a fairy godmother. I'll trade you a cigarette for your company, I'll trade you this moment for all my days. I want to love her but she can't be, again in galleys. And back to home, home sweet home where no one waits for you.
And the pain and the screams broke windows, and love made a seven and jumped out of bed. They made up stories, tried attempts and continued killing what was already dead. Black flowers grew in their kisses.
After so many years, one day they found themselves face to face on the subway and did not look at each other. And the pain and the screams returned to the scene and love did not come so as not to cause more pain. They remembered battles, they remembered attempts and they continued to kill what was already dead. Black flowers grew, black flowers grew, black flowers grew between the bones.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN