IRC-Galleria

Someone's HOUR is already punched, someone's any minute, Sometimes do not know, whether will live though day, Will die in painful groans or will avoid a flour, not breaking laws or WILL dress BRACELETS ON HANDS. Every year in each area someone drives off, having accepted inside, Someone burns under a layer of the reservation instead of institute, Someone to live stir, someone buries itself, Someone long rises, незаметив that already тонет. Boys in last way see off on a life of brothers, the tears not hiding, will say goodbye BRIEFLY, In fact it has chosen itself(himself) INSTEAD OF the BEST FRIEND, Also HAS jumped UNDER BULLETS, HAVING received LEAD OWN BREAST. Because of its filled arrow, in a second has lost EVERYTHING, In senseless firing and has achieved THAT? What for that not divided money, And at the future son the father till a birth in the GROUND now are necessary to it!


We to see off tired, well FIRING FROM STEEL, On a marble the initials will suffice young, tears will leave, Those who love and knew, Now on the ground only the PLATE WILL inform SENSE of WORDS: " we shall not forget you!!! We Shall think of you and always to speak - to MOTHERS hardly young TO BURY!!!!!!!

all that GOLD, that told to us as lepricones, Pseudo-ñ«¡Ù сподвигают young to break laws, To be an alive barrier of THOSE WHO divides thrones, In this street war to boys concern, as to clones. THAT will receive mother for the son - from a breast its cartridges, Or THE ONE WHO is guilty, will come crawling to it with bow, Will be wadded legs, with eyes of a moisture full, To follow a coffin of the son - TEARS BURNING In THROAT!

Ashes to ashes, ashes to ashes, IT has gone on an executioner's block, In due time there was no boldness to send ALL ON FUCK , And friends, that AS TARGETS in a shooting gallery, not first, bury the, Speak: " Be based In the World ", And the world in fact was much wider, than a sepulchral fencing, IT measured by its money - And HERE PAYMENT, the World was much more beautiful, than landscapes on banknotes, It sounded where more pleasantly, than the MARCH In MINOR NOTES.

I can not see eyes of mothers from tears crude, I cannot see fathers, without time gray-haired, I can not see grief of friends, girlfriends, native, I CAN not SEE, WHEN BURY YOUNG!!!


We to see off tired, well FIRING FROM STEEL, On a marble the initials will suffice young, tears will leave, Those who love and knew, Now on the ground only the PLATE WILL inform SENSE of WORDS: " we shall not forget you!!! We Shall think of you and always to speak - to MOTHERS hardly young TO BURY!!!!!!! "



jtn sinnepäi :P