Why not give me your money? I promise to free you from all your worries, relax, and justify your failure to accept blame for your lack of cash.
Why not give me your money? I know it will be painful, at this point you have tight fist so tightly that your fingers are white and marks on the skin. It's hard to let go, it's not easy letting go, even for you both directly and indirectly presume the little materialistic you are, I saw the smile you put to pay the beers, I saw the spark in your eyes when you get your last coins to buy food on the street when you could eat at home if you deign to return three days before the statutory minimum in your fantasy of the party.
That calamity! discover that you feel so attached to something so banal be critical, how important is you irrelevant, as you know that freedom distress to brag on parade whenever you is merely a mask equal to those of others. Alma
cold and pointless if I could take it off me, if I had a chance to start again today anywhere else I would do it because I swear I'm not like that, which is everything else, this place is dark, is the lack of sound, the sky off and opaque, it is people and monotone speaking, the contempt in their eyes and fraternity with very heavy spoken to each other. This is not me, it's just the shadow of the ruts of what might be inside, before this fantasy was my own escape, my shield of others, now it's just like if I force myself to keep myself violated, and no I can live without it.
Why not give me your money? I promise that everything will be different.
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