Look what I got here:
album full of artistic photos.
on everyone – I am rebuilding Warsaw
changed to dust yesterday (believe – I had to
commit yourself to specified a immense demolition).
And where I do it: in my Donations!
not by the desire to possess, purely selfish
The motive. joy is in it, denouncing,
It's so personal, it eats away,
acts like an antidepressant, a psychotropic,
a remedy against rot,
Boring, all fears.
My black palace grows underground,
A 100 needles enter the cooling of the soil.
I make on a can, but on my own.
the atmosphere in the heart, like in the oven, after solar
There's a ray moving through the arterios, a lava tree leaking.
constellations grow in profoundly hidden buildings,
in a palace inhabited by a human being
The pulsars proceed the endless ball.
Happy in this town, though it's almost
cityless, metropolitan built
Only for 2 people.
Watch the pictures. Don't be amazed erstwhile you notice,
I'm smaller on each one.
And smaller that it's getting harder for me
Pick up bricks, carry the bricks.
Do you know why this is happening? I plan never to
complete reconstruction. Let it continue, it happens
In spite, in spite of the opposite.
