…the inhalt. I write everything to the paper, and correct it all. The weather here restricts the life, after the years, it has come different, even in the coastal line. From here, people go to work to the islands, its a ferry trip to the archipelado islands, there is nice and quiet places, if you just want to see some privacy.…

…The end. The songwriter's dead. The blade fell upon him Taking him to the white lands Of Empathica Of Innocence Empathica Innocence The dreamer and the wine Poet without a rhyme A widowed writer torn apart by chains…

…we shared Your trembling paw in my hand Dreaming of that northern land Touching me with a kiss of a beast I know my dreams are made of you Of you and only for you Your ocean pulls me under Your voice tears me asunder…

…, and welfare to step in. You can do all in a hard way, or find the solutions, how the welfare is gained. I am nowadays like a fugu-fish, its womens cross, if you want a kid and from the husband a kiss. You can choose your own path, choose the love without a crack.…

…creation. I saw it's soul, envied it's pride. But needed nothing it had. An owl came to me, old and wise. Pierced right through my youth. I learned its ways, envied it's sense. But needed nothing it had. Don't give me love…

…CANT SEE THE MOMENT OF THE TIME OR TOMORROW. I WRITE SOMETHIMES THESE SONGS ON THE EL CORTE INGLES. iTS AN CHIC CLUC AND I CAN BE LIKE AN IINES. THE VIEW THERE IS SO NICE, ANYWAY, I WISH TO SEE YOU, i AM STILL SOMEHOW ADDICTED TO YOU.…