A dishwasher, rouge on a glass, licking softly.
As a one of the suspects, a child to take part in, be listed up.
A hand on his microphone, symbolisme for his crucifixion, Jim Morison was.
Not to be my real intention, by a person’s expression, in the summer in my love. Or, not to be my real intention, by a person’s expression, harry up summer to come.
Godzilla howles, to be rotten and be withered, rainy at the night of May.