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27 octobre 2020 à 16:25:15
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Le Monde de L'Écriture » Encore plus loin dans l'écriture ! » Textes non francophones » forearth

Auteur Sujet: forearth  (Lu 134 fois)

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forearth
« le: 22 septembre 2020 à 03:06:38 »
forearth
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1AaKBbNGkk
#frenglishdelirium #dayenemy #poor-later #sing-it

planèteurss
là où la montre tourne
dans un plusieurs
rond de corne

i was in my way for mindly earthilise a tenebrarum effect, so i'ld take away my mind now, and put your hands up, so down the gun of my enemy... poor of am i, if i may study in calm, the common sense of what i touch and what it touch, 'till it touch anew myself, for that circles, yeah, for earth, i'll spit a grain of madness, in your hillness, my scare in scale of the universe, i reverse, my steps, so i feared my miror, and others, and a few lights that blind so slowly in the distant source of galaxies, and i walk, in the air, years, take away from my past to the future i don't want to stare in the eye, hey, you, never had been so far of my touch than the comsodeep...

yeah, i ear, for earth

mind names take part of my papers, i scratch on the shoulders, any way my stomach be better, of course i'm spread my head on the walls and it hit with a tract : bye yourself

most of all took your tickets, a lotery may win against your courtesy, and mine is not to proudly, be that drop of infinity, so gladly bad, add you on your latest you, 'll be that mesure of magic, oh, pressure, press the button of myself à swear, to wear, that drop of raining frogs...

the dog so smelt your nose, he said : humanose is your pathos

circle turns it up, i walk on that tree along the river, i dreamt, to look forward, for words, for guns, that i shot, lost, and ghosted by fusionmind ; alone one this rock, alone, by my way... I spread my oxygen on the leaves, they grey oh my, no, my under day, my night of faith about labotomy, mastercut, denoble, i bubble, by rage, my orage, so turns the page, itself, so i call, a phone, and write a pen, no hope to free my song, i ear the son of gong

barely lamenting my feet on the floor carpeted by green grass of...?

those who want to understand...
make a chair with your sand...

 


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