The windows of the waves of the sea opened up of pair in equal
They flooded the History
sacred of the high sea, they walk out of me.
Alive in a sea without roses
The sand gets wet, she extends, she goes to bed, and it is swayed
To return to the that was always, not to the that is
I walk for… I go downstairs
Another big wave grew, it is another seaquake
In Gandhi the intelligence prevailed, and it expired.
The cholera was exasperated, she wanted to drain, it lacked him liquidity. The sky aided her, she sent him rain hip-hop. She already sacrificed more than three thousand. She contaminated, easily it will contaminate.
Upstarts Politburo of bad note thin in the adventures of the festivities, dispossessed boxes, increased in volume with notes of a hundred dollars.
Religious sects order to throw in the sea the died spirits. Many wandering souls hover under the waters. They say that she cannot go to those beaches because the lost souls we frighten.
The Politburo when they go for their cars, or of them they leave, they make him with immense caution. They peep for the whole side, with fear that the Orphans attack them. The Politburo always has safeties armed Jingola that protect them.
For the direction that the things take, they walk, with the leaders that govern the world, it is one more civilization, this of the global times, that it disappears. It is notable the intellectuals' ostracism Jingola, they seem insane, conniving. Where are their brains? Probably lost at the concrete forests.
Yes, they stopped thinking, because no longer they have forests, trees, it lacks them the oxygen purifier that feeds the thought.
I prepared my bikini, the arch and arrows.
I don't know where I am, what is, I think I got lost in the time, or the time lost me. What will be, what will belong to me?!
They are going me to plasticise in the civilization of the sack of plastic.
Jingola… where any cat-dripped adventurer, he is doctor, engineer.
Jingola of the ministers and vice ministers. Where has a lot of command voices, he gets lost the command.
The criminal of everything is the sea, he made the civilizations to keel over, to colonize.
It hid me the oak, the quetzal, and Manitou. It rejoiced me with Kalunga, mukeka, (fish stew or shellfish*), and missosso… (tale, history*) it Consoled me with to Cross… he neo-colonialism me.
* in Dictionary Houaiss
Image: Angola em fotos
They flooded the History
sacred of the high sea, they walk out of me.
Alive in a sea without roses
The sand gets wet, she extends, she goes to bed, and it is swayed
To return to the that was always, not to the that is
I walk for… I go downstairs
Another big wave grew, it is another seaquake
In Gandhi the intelligence prevailed, and it expired.
The cholera was exasperated, she wanted to drain, it lacked him liquidity. The sky aided her, she sent him rain hip-hop. She already sacrificed more than three thousand. She contaminated, easily it will contaminate.
Upstarts Politburo of bad note thin in the adventures of the festivities, dispossessed boxes, increased in volume with notes of a hundred dollars.
Religious sects order to throw in the sea the died spirits. Many wandering souls hover under the waters. They say that she cannot go to those beaches because the lost souls we frighten.
The Politburo when they go for their cars, or of them they leave, they make him with immense caution. They peep for the whole side, with fear that the Orphans attack them. The Politburo always has safeties armed Jingola that protect them.
For the direction that the things take, they walk, with the leaders that govern the world, it is one more civilization, this of the global times, that it disappears. It is notable the intellectuals' ostracism Jingola, they seem insane, conniving. Where are their brains? Probably lost at the concrete forests.
Yes, they stopped thinking, because no longer they have forests, trees, it lacks them the oxygen purifier that feeds the thought.
I prepared my bikini, the arch and arrows.
I don't know where I am, what is, I think I got lost in the time, or the time lost me. What will be, what will belong to me?!
They are going me to plasticise in the civilization of the sack of plastic.
Jingola… where any cat-dripped adventurer, he is doctor, engineer.
Jingola of the ministers and vice ministers. Where has a lot of command voices, he gets lost the command.
The criminal of everything is the sea, he made the civilizations to keel over, to colonize.
It hid me the oak, the quetzal, and Manitou. It rejoiced me with Kalunga, mukeka, (fish stew or shellfish*), and missosso… (tale, history*) it Consoled me with to Cross… he neo-colonialism me.
* in Dictionary Houaiss
Image: Angola em fotos
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