Puppets. ( English version.)
I wanted to become your puppet. In your hands to disappear so that you are my master from the High Life land. With short princess with the pale face and the mouth as red as the blood of the god twisted for kisses. With the obscenely cut dress rolled up, with crinkles and pleats alternately. And court shoes of the goat's crust, lightly worn out on fingers. I gloomily unavailable, you distant and calm. U will be accost for me these strings to sticks and you will win my heart. Like a butterfly I will turn into joy. Into bright and frivolous I will entertain looking.
Altogether everything we will be doing, even, when in WC you would sit for a long time, you would always have me by oneself, at night, evening and at dawn. I would just never want to walk away, much less to get lost forever. Your creation will be mine. You will create me from the beginning. My maestro! I will trust you. I will be a little doll on the exile, but only through the time some, because when you remind yourself our shared moments and memories are aroused, we will dance altogether the dance at the music from the old surface. And U will be missing… fell asleep. And I sat very softly leaning against the old trunk. My strings all tangled up, from their tensions freed onself. Heavy from the thinking the head slipped down helplessly to shoulders. I closed eyes and I started my daydream, the dream which will never be finished.
I could see the ocean, huge massifs of dangerous water rising up like aeroplanes taking off and it how he ran along sand in one's wild frenzy. As freed raven-face horse, what in hyper fell into joy? Blown hair, the naked torso, slender thighs and divine buttocks. He already crossed himself and now he is a time off with look, joy in itself included. He isn't no one's slave. Even for me.
So longingly I wanted behind him to run but my powers are his powers. And he forgot about me. Privately he left the wound for me, what my the blue blood dropped to land and from drops of tears and of blood gently pearls of love dripped reflecting my sadness in their glitter.
He left only a kind look at the time to me, but I jaded from now on princess I will never again deal with own whims. Under the nose I have flies, by eyes pearls but my humours are lulling me to sleep. And still this runny nose, eternal sneezing, the ceaseless shout for the mercy of the weather. Drained, to the million of pieces I am placing myself as an elements of a jigsaw puzzle into the whole. And I don't only know whether I will piece them together all. Didn't I lose some important element on the way perhaps? It will turn out then, that in the place where the ear was supposed to be there is an emptiness, or where there were buttocks my face is seen. So without my maestro, of puppeteer of the crafty bugger and the womanizer I am a faulty toy in the old left luggage office closed. And only with different puppets, what are also left I can mumble one's songs, of stupid, naive girl.
Altogether everything we will be doing, even, when in WC you would sit for a long time, you would always have me by oneself, at night, evening and at dawn. I would just never want to walk away, much less to get lost forever. Your creation will be mine. You will create me from the beginning. My maestro! I will trust you. I will be a little doll on the exile, but only through the time some, because when you remind yourself our shared moments and memories are aroused, we will dance altogether the dance at the music from the old surface. And U will be missing… fell asleep. And I sat very softly leaning against the old trunk. My strings all tangled up, from their tensions freed onself. Heavy from the thinking the head slipped down helplessly to shoulders. I closed eyes and I started my daydream, the dream which will never be finished.
I could see the ocean, huge massifs of dangerous water rising up like aeroplanes taking off and it how he ran along sand in one's wild frenzy. As freed raven-face horse, what in hyper fell into joy? Blown hair, the naked torso, slender thighs and divine buttocks. He already crossed himself and now he is a time off with look, joy in itself included. He isn't no one's slave. Even for me.
So longingly I wanted behind him to run but my powers are his powers. And he forgot about me. Privately he left the wound for me, what my the blue blood dropped to land and from drops of tears and of blood gently pearls of love dripped reflecting my sadness in their glitter.
He left only a kind look at the time to me, but I jaded from now on princess I will never again deal with own whims. Under the nose I have flies, by eyes pearls but my humours are lulling me to sleep. And still this runny nose, eternal sneezing, the ceaseless shout for the mercy of the weather. Drained, to the million of pieces I am placing myself as an elements of a jigsaw puzzle into the whole. And I don't only know whether I will piece them together all. Didn't I lose some important element on the way perhaps? It will turn out then, that in the place where the ear was supposed to be there is an emptiness, or where there were buttocks my face is seen. So without my maestro, of puppeteer of the crafty bugger and the womanizer I am a faulty toy in the old left luggage office closed. And only with different puppets, what are also left I can mumble one's songs, of stupid, naive girl.