Men and without bar code. Men with shoes in hand about to overturn the re-vision. Men with the headphones in the eyes secluded from social life and on the run. Men with power drills to those able to pierce the sky. Men with a heart in his pocket, accessory wrecks in search of trash. Men with pies in the face. Each has its sweet that it deserves. Men with flowers in her mouth to stop in Trastevere. Men with the noose around his neck at the terminus of the trail.
Men and women at the center without the scene. With the bags on his head. Without spending, there is now collects all the mud.
Women with heels in the ears. Make up for brides not humble self-centered. Women with handbags like tail, from there you sow the charm of a trail of fragrant meat. Women with smoke signals, those on strike to send any diligence. Women with the lips in front of the belly and navel, where it is impossible to gather the remaining human tenderness. Women from the hearts stamped in time with the tickets in his cheek off at Trastevere.
Aliens looking dismayed all, solidarity with the Sam numb the senses in the morning and promising that the next trip will also take him away from here.
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