EL Glasnost de los culiaos

We were crushing the streets, when they found us. Had stolen some money and stoned their mind again, and there they were, just shitting on themselves, trashing up their homes and raving along the place, experimenting ultimate euphoria. Low, so low there were impossible to think. Can’t lie this shit. The way it is, it is. Being so selfish to deny their ultimate dream of their happiness. They though they had all the time of the world but they failed their own time. Being so selfish yet, just like swifts from the ocean, emancipating. Yet as profound enough I declared Not to be selfish anymore and go forth. Some ultimate terrain has to be found. Dreaming enough to forget how bad it were, at finally recognize their big mistake. That was the biggest hit they
would ever take.
Entonces me arrepentí de escribir.