There is no words to describe it, but I got it.
I got what, the big difference between getting it, or gotten it, or even having gotten it.
And if you cannot admit standing on that paraphernalia imagining petofi
Would you suffer the arrows of outstandig fortune,
Would you stand like
Petofi on the paraphet,
I got it
Standing there on the paraphet he always meant,
I got it. Either or both got that way may or may not matter but to a third, a bird, a little tiny turd of a bird
And then you are sewing it up even before you break it.
I got it and many others, well, if you want to victimize your stay you may but not suggested,
Because it is not what you say it is.......confusedly shaking his boots as the psst receded into pouring oblivion
As when the elves frolicked in a forest of grand operas, of meadows gently rolling off divine harmony.
It is not. It is always what to say, and how, my friends,
It's never a how it is, it is always what it is.
What is it? As she dropped her insurmountable energy which I would any day exchange for self inflicted pain, what hurts?
As she dropped it her so so insurmountable pain of ever even contemplating other the only possibility of him leaving first.
It is now no way to ask how, it is,always just as it reads what is it. You leave first
And she leaves,,,,,,
She never leaves, you leave first, but she never does.
That is the balsam of forgetting, the cure for waiting for the morning.
The sun will rise,
That's it, ...rise.