Snot is running down his nose, greasy fingers, smearing shabby clothes.
Take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
The Christmas spirit is not what you drink.
The doer and the thinker, no allowances for the other, as the failing light illuminates the mercenaries creed.
The excrement bubbles, the century slime decays, and the brainwashing government lackeys would have us say it's under control.
The legends lie cradled in the seagulls call, and the promise they made are ground beneath the sadist's fall.
The poet lifts his pen as the soldier sheaths his sword.
To tell the truth, I'd scare me too.
Too many heroes stepping on too many toes, too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no.
Too many temples where we could worship the beast.
Who the hell can he be? He's never had V.D.
Who would be a poor man, a beggar man, a thief, if he held a rich man in his hand?
You set your wealth in Godly deeds against the seeds you've laid.
You were bred for humanity and sold to society. One day you'll wake up in the present day, a million generations removed from the expectations of being who you really want to be.
Your sperm's in the gutter, your love's in the sink.
This website focuses on proverbs in the Swedish, Danish and Norwegian languages, and some parts including the links below have not been translated to English. They are mainly FAQs, various information and webpages for improving the collection.
This website focuses on proverbs in the Swedish, Danish and Norwegian languages, and some parts including the links below have not been translated to English. They are mainly FAQs, various information and webpages for improving the collection.