Prelude to the parade ...
If you encounter do not laugh, do not insults, do not laugh ...
What makes the monster This is not the torpor of the reason is the death of love ... And I suspect today
someone or someone has a taste in the mouth of a corpse
... If I was given the onerous task of being his mouth, I'd do without hatred or insult . If he asked me to spit in the face of anyone, I would, even if it is not envy that I am missing ... I would respect the monster, as it is called, I would respect the fool as desired, I would respect ... I'd not spellcaster as he asked me, I would respect the unacceptable ... But I repeat, to build his life on a corpse, one comes inevitably repressed in the throat
... I'm so, tell you, dropwise, the story of one who was my only friend, to this heart that bleeds. I still hear your voice, drawling, I still hear you telling me about her and the beautiful lands that you saw.
Is there only in the eye of "freacks" that the world is a fragile pearl? Is there that the - those who know about the ugliness that beauty exists?
To keep everyone happy, though it would probably be in pain, I purposely changed the names and places. My friend, you see, despite these years I'll still cry and I'm the only one ... Maybe because it is only I who knows under that sky there ... But now you rest Finally ...
You see when I look in the mirror, and even though I consider myself a strong constitution bellle yet, so I understand that I am the monster is us, is you. In all my life, I have not stretched my hand, I did not help the other, I played my fate with ease ... I rejected that I did not and I avoided I no longer wished.
I hope that at least the top is beautiful and the parade that you have found Hyppolite failing Selene ... I have not known you can see, but I cry with you, this kingdom lost ... Selena ... Selena ... Words who want everything ... Some said magic words ... But where is the key to this kingdom? What begins
feast of fools, that the parade starts and is the kingdom of amputees, blind, bowl of ass, and without arms, without legs, lead us to heaven, Cart of Thespis, let us intoxicate our turn to finally forget what we should be. A parade
my friends ...
to Selena and your loving companion murdered in Hyppolite and all the freaks.
Ps: People are strange when you're abroad. The faces seem ugly when you are alone. And women seem perverse when they do not want you. The streets are not safe when it was the cockroach. When you're strange, faces come in the rain. When you're strange no one remembers your name. When you're strange ...
RE PS: I would try as much as possible to put you here and elsewhere, this tale is not beautiful, which is done wrong ... But who says finally. ..
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