OPERA OF CIVILIZATION

You fired the bullet right in the heart of my love. Die. Yes. I die. But my love for the land of the alma mater never died or died out.

Your eyes. Your smile. A stretch of your love you hold on my veins still imprint. Here. In my heart. On my chest, the place you sulked wants me to caress your love back. Comfortable, you say.
Yes. That is love. Comfortable. You touch my lips with your fingers, soft. I was tortured to part from my beloved sweetheart, the struggle of mid-May 1998. There have been written historical prose meanings about love stories, in this homeland.
Torture When the peak reaches the tenor. You lay down love. I lay down all the love in your pretty lips. Together, millions of blooming flowers fell from the sky in a hug, tightly, as if they were not released forever. In any season.
As the moon sways, it plays with the rhythm of the rhythm of the symphonies, the shadows of the romantic adiratna, the maze of dark blue poems. You float your body like visual stories of the most beautiful ornamental fish in the aquariums of civilization.

Then, dangling on the edge of the dream, in an exact metaphysical, colorful blooms, forming allegory literary art about, me, witnessing my burial. Seeing the presence, my dear mother, my beloved family, you are also my beloved, there are, among the friends of the dark blue alma mater.

Kurt Weill, playing the chiming of compositions on the song's poems, 'Mack the Knife', goes to the top of the scene, cult, to the penalty of hanging, Mackie Messer, the character in the poem of the song, I play.
Then, the hanging sentence was canceled, by a ruse of power, forgiven by the parody tactics of the hands of power, the Governor-General, the ruler at the time, in the story of 'The Threepenny Opera', the work, Bertolt Brecht. Together with my lover, the love interest in the conscience of affection plays a role, Polly Peachum.

"Hmmh, memories."
Romance gets inflamed when the highlight of the game goes to epilogue artistry, touching the sensibility of images, copyrights, colorful flowers of love, dreams, behind the scenes scenes of love, clear, sublime. Cling to everything, vigilance or neglect.
Leave your lips between the night kisses. I sigh near the angel of the heirlooms of death, if possible I will return. Bring romance, you have fired in my chest, residing in your love lover. The role takes us to the small world, as if untouched by the time of mortality.
The hug on guidance, scenes, creation, Leo Tolstoy, has crushed all the events of marathon in ancient virginity, scene by scene, beautiful romance, Anna Karenina. Although not as similar, 'Song of Geese', Anton Chekov, love is taken away by the audience leaving the stage.

I saw you stepping away from the sanatorium of civilization, carrying a blue plastic rose, the rest of my life. Among the voices of black angels, look for me, in the role of classical parody, practical politics, 'The Crucible', Arthur Miller. Symbolically, the beginning of the nobility's belief in a cult became a magic of power.
Political wisdom in the era of the order, at that time. The judge became a tool of witchcraft, political interests, tearing the conscience, shaking on symbolic issues, stability of the security of the smallest in the mouths of the revolutions of his era.
The performance, 'The Crucible', Miller, is almost similar, a memorabilia of change events. The people's movement, youth, students, crushed the politics of establishment at that time, shook, thundered, stopped the politicization of autocracy.
Permanent mental corrosion has become a giant ghost, in the government system of his day. State debt soared, inflation squeezed the reactors of the people's economy.

Although, perhaps not entirely, due to the behavior, non-governmental organizations of the world economy, have poisoned permanent loans, with high interest, the cause of the pitch black weather.
The range of change moves quickly to one point. Topple authoritarian cannibalism. There are no more important figures, when the people's voice urges sectarian authoritarianism, naked, in the midst of the masses.
However, what power. Thieves, evil people, tarnished the holy struggle to move the masses, the people, the youth, the students. The sara provocation was blown away, disastrous for fellow countrymen, material, moral, colossal looting.
The scene goes on one stage of the reality of dramatic pain bullets. historically it has catapulted events to my lover, my best friend, my brother, my people.
I cannot be angry with anyone. I wanted to scream, but my spirit was gone. Flying away, maybe as light as cotton in a storm. I went to all hospitals, all emergency departments, all campuses. I looked for you, lover, at that time. Where are you.

This soul, wandering, looking for you. I prostrate on the clouds, from the heights of the sky, I, seeing the dark blue relatives of one alma mater, love, marching, singing in silence, in the campfire. However, I am no longer possible to return with you alma mater, holy warriors.
The lover of the conscience of the universe, His angel gave me a signal, to go to the last door. I, will remain faithful waiting for news, waiting for your stories.
In the distance I saw two of my best friends waving. Then, we clenched our hands together, at the song verse ...
Thank God I offered it.
The presence of the Lord.
Almamater, dark blue line, encircles the campfire. Stay on. Reform has grown, creating peace of conscience, may be useful for our beloved country.
Heroes of the dark blue alma mater, remain peaceful, full of love in the psalms, in the heavenly fragrance covered by the motherland. Hopefully it will never be forgotten.