...Do you fall asleep..?
...Drinking a yerba mathé of chrome, a rancid gaucho was sat down on a cut log of an ombú, watching the sterling tigers pass by.
A sun flying rapid and the aphternoon passed by at the slow flight of the ostriches: the mathé got cold, and then -satanic miracle- got hot again.
From da distance, a humble pilgrimage of old women dressed for their sunday in the hypocritical churches, over the miser hamlets, came walkin' all in black with faded pots of swan stew in their arms: caravanserai for the samaritan of eyes color bordeaux...the radiomen came opening path from Idaho when he was a Tony Curtis for all to see: farmer's daughter ¿where do you rest your soft nates?
Decidedly no! The gaûcho got pale and the potassium of the sky got pale with him: the ostriches landed on Dunkerke when both three (sic): gaûcho, radiomen and östriches, maintained a meatsome battle until the agony of the evening...a horrible abattoir it was left unto the prairies combed by oligocene winds, as the night did succumb down to the astral chakra of Raquel Welch and the nymphomaniac commmanche fairies...
Nena de petite ville , baby; blood between these lines...
...cold face princess ¿where? ¿Where are you goin' to go?
The toads at dawn have the answer.
This is the fable 'bout a man that was king, and rolled down towards the last ditch.
...The deep downhole of the stalactites of God...
...Cro-Magnon girl: the gaûcho of Benelux and the Isles was lasershot and metaphor before his latest disappearance in front the mirrors, for all to see...
THE BREAD OF THE CITY AND ITS FURIOUS DOORS.
Now: wake up...
...Drinking a yerba mathé of chrome, a rancid gaucho was sat down on a cut log of an ombú, watching the sterling tigers pass by.
A sun flying rapid and the aphternoon passed by at the slow flight of the ostriches: the mathé got cold, and then -satanic miracle- got hot again.
From da distance, a humble pilgrimage of old women dressed for their sunday in the hypocritical churches, over the miser hamlets, came walkin' all in black with faded pots of swan stew in their arms: caravanserai for the samaritan of eyes color bordeaux...the radiomen came opening path from Idaho when he was a Tony Curtis for all to see: farmer's daughter ¿where do you rest your soft nates?
Decidedly no! The gaûcho got pale and the potassium of the sky got pale with him: the ostriches landed on Dunkerke when both three (sic): gaûcho, radiomen and östriches, maintained a meatsome battle until the agony of the evening...a horrible abattoir it was left unto the prairies combed by oligocene winds, as the night did succumb down to the astral chakra of Raquel Welch and the nymphomaniac commmanche fairies...
Nena de petite ville , baby; blood between these lines...
...cold face princess ¿where? ¿Where are you goin' to go?
The toads at dawn have the answer.
This is the fable 'bout a man that was king, and rolled down towards the last ditch.
...The deep downhole of the stalactites of God...
...Cro-Magnon girl: the gaûcho of Benelux and the Isles was lasershot and metaphor before his latest disappearance in front the mirrors, for all to see...
THE BREAD OF THE CITY AND ITS FURIOUS DOORS.
Now: wake up...
.
