This civilization is very developed, they say. But we didn't lose the habits of the age of the stone.
The religion and the dictatorship are the handcuffs of the mind.
The dictators don't leave the democrats to rest.
Screams of the death in the dark night. One more hungry person than he said good-bye to the dictatorship.
I need a key to open the seven keys of the lock of this dictatorship.
In the incipient democracy until the dogs are hypocritical.
In the modern societies the prisons are always with the out of print capacity.
The corners of the politics fill with adventurers.
We always lived in the fear, that the prison of the night in the gown to the door.
We are always to relive the moments of Monte Christ's Count.
The best party politician is the hunger, and this is the best counsellor.
The vultures are in the power, but the albatross is in force them.
The military columns move forward in the dawn. They will send candies to the hungry persons.
The hunger is proportional to the politicians' speeches.
If more petroleum there had been, there it had arrived.
There is always further on a ditch, one more oil well.
Until the deaf he hears murmuring of the promises of freedom.
The structures of the power are rusts, they will fall for maintenance lack.
The cruelty is the dictators' Bible.
To feel the wind of the freedom an open window it is enough.
We are as birds caged in the dictatorship.
Until the deaf starving she gets to hear the noise of the hunger.
The incompetent ones are eternalized in the power, but they are not eternal.
The waves of the sea rest in the sand, the dictators sleep in the quicksands.
The night finishes, the morning begins, and the day of the power doesn't end.
The light of the lights blinds us, they stole the lamps.
The secret bank accounts are for some. The hungry persons' bank has many deposits to period.
I fear that tie me the thought.
Many generals little democracy.
The religious sects give us the fallen food of the sky, the great corporations remove us the petroleum.
Friendly! Of the high of this palace million of hungry persons we meditate.
I am still in the prison as Monte Christ's Count but, of there I will leave.
Pic: http://ingridcerveira.blogspot.com/
The religion and the dictatorship are the handcuffs of the mind.
The dictators don't leave the democrats to rest.
Screams of the death in the dark night. One more hungry person than he said good-bye to the dictatorship.
I need a key to open the seven keys of the lock of this dictatorship.
In the incipient democracy until the dogs are hypocritical.
In the modern societies the prisons are always with the out of print capacity.
The corners of the politics fill with adventurers.
We always lived in the fear, that the prison of the night in the gown to the door.
We are always to relive the moments of Monte Christ's Count.
The best party politician is the hunger, and this is the best counsellor.
The vultures are in the power, but the albatross is in force them.
The military columns move forward in the dawn. They will send candies to the hungry persons.
The hunger is proportional to the politicians' speeches.
If more petroleum there had been, there it had arrived.
There is always further on a ditch, one more oil well.
Until the deaf he hears murmuring of the promises of freedom.
The structures of the power are rusts, they will fall for maintenance lack.
The cruelty is the dictators' Bible.
To feel the wind of the freedom an open window it is enough.
We are as birds caged in the dictatorship.
Until the deaf starving she gets to hear the noise of the hunger.
The incompetent ones are eternalized in the power, but they are not eternal.
The waves of the sea rest in the sand, the dictators sleep in the quicksands.
The night finishes, the morning begins, and the day of the power doesn't end.
The light of the lights blinds us, they stole the lamps.
The secret bank accounts are for some. The hungry persons' bank has many deposits to period.
I fear that tie me the thought.
Many generals little democracy.
The religious sects give us the fallen food of the sky, the great corporations remove us the petroleum.
Friendly! Of the high of this palace million of hungry persons we meditate.
I am still in the prison as Monte Christ's Count but, of there I will leave.
Pic: http://ingridcerveira.blogspot.com/
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