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Disarme Mar 2010
Must I findthat your heartstringsare the cause of my wicked soul-song?Sang like a love gospel by few mouths.But all wrong we are...never too close to love,never too far from hate.Must I endure the crimson shadows of our kisses?Although they gone from the wallof  our love,when the light of despair reached us.Must I be the poet and you the forbidden verse?  
THE SOUTHERN
WALLOF ICE IS:

somewhere to go; somewhere else; somewhere where men
are men and women are too: flopping around, growing
out their hair, wearing enormous condoms.

— The End —