In a low voice Nico sings, her ordinary life of Thorn, here she comes.
The fan of her own let slip, like buruburu, the ghost tremble violently in scarlet, Alastair aka Hans Henning Baron Vogt drown by.
Come away home, Proserpina, the goddess everlasting spring, having bitten at a pomegranate, but.
Of her real own mother's a kept man, of her father‐in‐law's top, of his head her prize it will be.
An ape drops, falls an woman, from the skyscraper down.