Volker Wulle
remains is a pile of rubble.
called life.
A soul that is rearing up in the lost condition.
drifted into a misery, as need be stamped, a nose ring, forged demonstration.
left, right, bouncing in contortions.
I Kasper of the nation, I'm good with a bad game, bowing.
Look here.
zappel I still at this stage, to general amusement.
applause, applause ...
The curtain falls.
shrouded in darkness, the facial expression frozen.
exhaled, turned off.
forget.
CC License
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