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Это не пати, на х..й, это дебош
First I drink, then I smoke
Created on 2005-08-10 16:11:18 (#7982490), last updated 2009-11-25
4,847 comments received, 10,119 comments posted
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662 Journal Entries, 42 Tags, 52 Memories, 10+ ScrapBook Files, 3 Virtual Gifts, 14 Userpics
| Name: | истинный Оранский |
|---|---|
| Location: | Amsterdam, Netherlands |
| Website: | LAST.FM |

Winter: a season of death
You hear a distant sound
Screaming, whining
Along with the cracking of the ice
You can hear someone shouting out your name
The scratching, the screaming, the whining
You're frozen to death
And soon there will be
Only the ice and the snow
Only the ice and the snow
Ridiculous hanged man! Your griefs I know.
I felt, to see you swing above the heath,
Like nausea slowly rising to my teeth,
The bilious stream of ancient human woe.
Poor devil, dear to memory! before me
I seemed to feel each talon, fang, and beak
Of all the stinking crows and panthers sleek
That in my lifetime ever chewed and tore me.
The sky was charming and the sea unclouded,
But all was black and bloody to my mind.
As in a dismal winding-sheet entwined,
My heart was in this allegory shrouded.
A gallows where my image hung apart
Was all I found on Venus' isle of sighs.
O God, give me the strength to scrutinise,
Without disgust, my body and my heart!

And when we return
We are all ashamed
Because the promises of life
We'll never forget
And all that you say
Discloses what we are
We know our sheets will always
Maintain blank
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