Ophiras

From repetitive persons I feel myself so bored and sick; Imagine a horde of colorful birds, What saying a ditto thing. Their plumage are bright, Like hundreds of watercolor paints; But the thought are soiled, And their measured long. Measured along and across, And forgot to put a price; And someone dare to reproach the sameness? Because many were one face.

Let mark of stamp wash off with water, And patch up a wound forever; How confusing to star by hand, So she goes to the triumphant "Hurrah!" So funny our people, How isn't ridiculous their fates; They behave themselves the strict judges, When they don't know a shame to themselves. Break the hands on the asphalt, But blood can not see from a mile away; A blood don't drips to match, How white felt dripping onto the wound. One piece of felt Replace the whole lifes' box; And someone will not understand somewhere, That this felt of new soul.

Can it be end of my sufferings? Can it be that long-awaited hour came, When my eyes found the end of wandering, A hands reach in the last time? Close your mouth, your ears, Open the windows, and eyes - narrower; Heed the voice within, Don't succumb the games of the king. Ballast hangs like a dead stone, And blood is boiling like a sleepy poison; The soul, not the body, woven by the shades, Drowning indistinguishable back. One person, one fun! And you rolled, a wave of laughter, When don't expect you, When cherish miracle With the hope peering into in the morning!

One outfit, one style Rugged dress in shreds; And nice shoes like in unison, Just there's no them and drops of happiness. Lipstick for women, cologne for men - All different you are wearing, And I dream bad, rough sleeping, That you are a summer sunset. All your masks - messengers of lies, All actions are designed destiny; And you, tormented strangers, Leaned over me. The soul is so marvelous sitting inside Your long burned bodies; And the mind of cold is already silent, It has long been leading you through the flow of cases.

All people are the equal, Distinguishes them only force; All thoughts are different, But combines mile. All thoughts are pure, A hands are dirty; All face are white, But the souls of the stench smeared. You have the same smile, But the tears on her cheeks colored; You have different errors, But some ways. You like flowers for their soft flavor, People also value for the dedication of talent; But your flower is not looking in the mirror, As the remainder of the cigar look into the your soul.

To feel again what a wonderful feeling, Makes the soul tremble before the end. To find a freedom a little sad, But sadly, can say goodbye to the ennui only standing on the porch. Swallowing the morphine of fresh flowers, Heeding to the black sky, That newly freed from the strengths shackles, Accepting help otherworldly light. Now I can let her go, my dear friend, To disengage the lock with her dead hands. Breaking poisonous network with her lips ... And she's just one of the mundane corpse. I'll sing a song that's really not singing for ten years, I'll take an old guitar, wear a leather belt ... The string will break under the strain, Lett

If you don't like the coffee, like she, and you can't make one of its kind, that this bitter, slightly the sweet aroma of fresh and  tart drink, which are welded only half a minute ago, immediately will like you. The fragrance will  fast and exciting go with the bright room, covering every speck of space the warm, silk veil of bliss. It acts of strange magical way, filling the every your cell to cozy warmth and tranquility. The smiles elderly dispose you on the best beginning of the solar day. And the gallantly proposed additions to the coffee will not leave anyone indifferent to its number and quality, even the most ardent foodie this spicy

Blood runs cold in veins, But he was not scared. Hanging on the golden cross, Man falls into an eternal sleep. He remembers all his actions, The all evil intents or dreams; Did he deserves punishment, Hanging at the earthborn judgment? He did not make the another, For what could kill him, But somebody to become to listen him? And, incidentally, happiness aren not in this. Hanging, the guy thinks about her, That with all his heart longed; And if he had foreseen this, Then earlier would to kisses a girl. Closing his eyes, the guardian wearily sighed, And tear walked on the cheek. He was not to take a that proud oath, Which always bore on th