The end of December is a time for
contemplation and a bit of expression, which
releases some moaning in
front of an embarrassment in the mask.
There is a disguise of a chameleon, a
gorilla and a lightning storm.
Will the storm be a typhoon?
Is this cyclone on target?
The hurricane made me ashamed in
shock and in the market:
instead of a terrible tornado,
"Carmel" - it is raining from my place.
From here straight to the Omicron -
here a
variety of masks and knives,
ministries and vaccines are pulled out of the closet.
Is it a predator variant?
Or a flu-like strain that passes?
So who is it, who is it, who helps?
Well, expose the bastard.
And not only here, even in the
world there is a paid masquerade ball.
The whole universe is bright green, and
hop, it's already a screaming red.
The tourists are gone, the
terminals are deserted,
all the flights are canceled but ... the
billionaires are in space.
President of Iran - hangman elected,
pulls in Vienna precious precious time,
so between bargaining and giving,
between strudels and waltz waltzes.
Meanwhile the eldest in Bushhar
celebrates uranium ten, the
world is upside down in a mask, and there is
not a moment of rest.
The spins and the pike are in and
out of the aloe vera.
So who is it, who is it in forgiveness?
Indeed, "troll" is the word.
There is no advice nor wisdom, and
let it be a year.
The mess passes in the meantime to your
caregivers, twenty-two.
Were we wrong?
Fixed!
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