Mike Dowson
- Oh! That is the devil!
- slut! You're just a bunch of gossip! I tope not when you play the daughter of Street ... At night! It's dirt! That and everything else! You! Bugger off! You get it not that I need space to build my castle of poems? And you take the whole damn place! Your nets! And your magenta! This and that!
- Oh! Oh! But stop doing your show, man!
- What?
- Schumann! Your Schumann! Schu-mann! Stop doing, your Schumann!
She holds her head, left, right, for it not collapsing. Under pressure. Draft beer. It would be good! His head is pretty sweet as it is: it looks like Aeschylus but with a drop of ... ... a drop of sperm! In the face! The magazines, they, they tell us a lot of nonsense, like this, like this: skin, nothing better than that. I SWEAR. Sperm, so it is written comic, gives the complexion a color Orphic. And we, we, they are believed. Mango and I think they are. Word. Oh, they talk about them other ... We swear. Perjury! Perjury!
Mango and I are, as we say in the other, we're ... alive? violin? How do you say? Violent? Purple? There. That's right: we are is rape.
Mango holds her head with her hair Sevilla, which shines like a thousand cities, turned thumbs on her lips, making a big O with her pink mouth. And she sings octave Ovid serious as empty. That it does: smooth, wrinkle it. We stay inside, within us, and we spend our time to ride. Like crazy! Us!
It's better than everyone else, because we, you know how it works. How it works. We, we are servants. We know what it rhymes function of life. It rhymes with pee, penis and host. It is not the world!
- we play?
Mango, she always wants to play. His trick is not nearly funny thing to get to be serious as possible. Mango loves all the seriousness that person. If you approach us seriously, you're no better than dead! Seriously! No badauderies! I never let you feel Mango. Not a wrinkle! What you dare! Dare! And in less than a Lent, I am sending you waltz, like cream in coffee French! Like anything! As a UFO on the smile of a mad 15 years!
- We play old, old branch old bronchitis? We play?
- What, Mango? You want to play what, again? I leave the guns in the water?
- Go!
- Old British scientists costumes?
- Go!
- Music Circus?
- Right! Go! Go!
And tonight, in September 1 fees as of cirrhosis was valdansé! Two hours of time! When you think about it, it can hardly be two hours of something else. Two hours. But not two hours in diameter. Two hours. But not two hours tiara. We know that time is two hours! Watch them how they are so serious! Them more! With their big words and nonsense! Their great tunes! They are cheesy, like strawberries! Vegetables! They believe themselves perfectly sunny saying two hours. Mango and I nanny, it is not underway, it says: two hours of language.
We kissed for two hours of language.
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