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ArtistThe eggs are ringing like bells. All men and women don't have balls. Because they don't exist. Clarity of the morning. Only an asterisk and a sickle are visible, mowing dead wood for the heavenly rabbit. Along the frosty paths, I ran out to the men who were heatedly discussing. And he sniffed gas at gas stations. I went out through the pies.
The eggs are ringing like bells. All men and women don't have balls. Because they don't exist. Clarity of the morning. Only an asterisk and a sickle are visible, mowing dead wood for the heavenly rabbit. Along the frosty paths, I ran out to the men who were heatedly discussing. And he sniffed gas at gas stations. I went out through the pies.
