Status: Starting yet...
Tout l'art du monde
Art did not muster a weep of sorrow when it died...
We want a revolution, we want to explode into senses, a vicious circle of heaven and hell simoultaneously tangled, making love to each other., or perhaps in rape. To what god do we comend ourselves?
Passion, art, revolution, to each their poison, but a toast to rebirth.
Cos we'd only die for all the art in the world.
We want a revolution, we want to explode into senses, a vicious circle of heaven and hell simoultaneously tangled, making love to each other., or perhaps in rape. To what god do we comend ourselves?
Passion, art, revolution, to each their poison, but a toast to rebirth.
Cos we'd only die for all the art in the world.
-
The Spy
"Smoke lets her in, with a fine line of hashish streaming through her, riding slowly into the DaDa, she’s the spy in the house of love"