Wordstream

I like born-given ability to give up the native language of my Motherland and thinking in the dialect of the Queen and punks that far to forget boundaries of Russian grammar, lexicon and fly freely to the Albion of words made to form thoughts in needle-pointed exactness book style old fellow English is the one I operate thanks to my teachers and stubborness and will to finish at least one deal in my whole fucking life the stream is filling up my head with typhoon speed of the cigarrette stuck in mouth of man that hasn't smoke for years and is willing to die of lungs' cancer in time of ashes falling to the ground what's that sound? It's the thunderclap of ashes in the fall to tiny invisible creatures that live in the footprint of human civilization and are up to do this to end of the Earth now listen ear to ground I have something to say "What's now?" you think I answer you in the moment you realise that all you've got is foolish crap and now what's that sound?! It's the thunderclap of the ones made not to destruct but to create - Invaders of Hurricane!