Dirty, filthy, deserter from the Bakhtiari crap old gold twinkling, flamingo Spanish Armada nudged gently awake as her tits were searched with night-vision cameras and detectors. Cigaretts piled up on the dusty floor.
Violet incense ashes fell on the blue and white Chinese soup spoons dimmed for take-off in the apartment with a balcony two blocks from the morning star fucking the sea. She never finished a song.
Reissued this month swallowed too many pills as well as Rioja vino toe-curdling in bed in a baseball cap, New York Yankees.
'She told me he went behind her back.'
'Anything else?'
Parental neglect (a slut for a mother and a nomad for an absent unfortunately) characteristic ( I seem to recall) nevertheless, every dog has his day so she wheeled her smashed-up Vespa hide-and-seek shot dead. Greeted with complete apathy. She told Khayyam she would surrender.
The sun was shinning on duck arse haie-dos dripping with pomade the street thick with tires crunching mediterranean crab wrapped in plastic wrap near a flock of seagulls so wounded hip hop at the cultural center a blue pool and a vase of orange roses ree-dick-u-poignant loss hat-trick wreck.
My bloody Valentine. Weird shit.
Shame on you no great shakes false starts always hit a bag from Nepal with a mandala in an amber heart it takes two to rumble for real.
It's a daunting task but has to “Oh Boy!” after he checked out.
Heart of the tune at 96 583 8934 didn't call back.
CALPE- %$·”!?- ESPANA
