Despair rescue officers (not funny)

< Anshe



And not at the time of his knees hugging handles fragile,
tile cold, wet, baby, cold ass.
What are you looking at branches? Come back already,
justice and fairness on the roof, you know, a funny look.
Remember, baby, Kid and Carlson, who escaped from Bok,
frightened crooks here given from the laundry?
What do you say, who once promised you shoes made of crystal,
under the cast skillfully protknuvshi fangs resilient side?
Come on, do not be silly, I'm tired, that Saturday to shoot you,
warm compresses, tinctures, socks, treat lingering bronchitis ...
I call on the working and every bell you bitter,
I sedeyu ... Who of us you have in mind to punish?
You heard plenty of fairy tales, where you are a princess - hole in the head,
storm rises, and you so much power ... and the rain pours,
baby, zipper close, but life is cruel, lightning -
are you in the next hundred minutes, it's time to die yet.
Do not catch a spark breaths, resting on the forehead antenna, -
Fire quietly, on the cornice not to tear the hem,
slazit wisely, and do not be angry, and finally live longer with the mind,
every boy, man, guy, equally balabol ...
I used to give home and business changer hurry hurry,
waiting for children to kiss his wife, listen to lies, telling her crap, -
not you trembling, close to bear under a hot shower,
but where can I go to get away from you, shivering to the bone, my ...