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Große Auswahl an Schuhen für Damen, Herren & Kids entdecken, die Ihnen Online & in unseren Filialen etwas über die Postmoderne und preiswerteste uralte Stiefel erzählen. Harnvorhaltung erinnert mich immer ans Absaufen Roms. Eine einfache Erklärung der Relativitätstheorie:
Ich stoße jemanden mit aller Gewalt den Effefinger der rechten Hand in den Arsch. Dann hat er einen Finger im Arsch und ich habe den Mittelfinger der Linken Hand in der Nase, aber ich stehe dann doch relativ besser da. (Nur mal so am Rand bemerkt.) Eine Wahrnehmungsstörung ist der Spezies Maradona-Summationseffekt von Gleichzeitigem und Erinnertem.
SPELLBLAST
»Classified-V« (2022)
1. The Wow Signal
2. The Hands Resist Him
3. The Flannan Lighthouse
4. The Roanoke Colony
5. The Dyatlov Pass
6. The Dancing Plague
7. The Yogtze Riddle
8. The Overtoun Bridge
9. The Children of Woolpit
The Wow Signal
We all have told tons of stories just to expect the great surprise in the eyes of those who listen who want the best words to explain just what they want to find. It's the feeling of colliding in your face full of whys. When we try to solve huge questions we spit out easy answers since the birth of humankind.
Something shoots that Big B-Ear, I hear voices from afar, it's someone I wish I had so close to me while logic turns in stars. Could the answer be near the will the world company? Since this world we're living here seems always lost in reality, or in philosophies, the end is the therapy to unleash our words of WOW. We spit out easy answers since the birth of humankind.
72 seconds to raise a question for the next 40 years. Is this hydrogen the half of a sea from which a bottle came onto here? All we want to read is a »Message« or maybe is this bottle just a receptacle for for Birthcontrol? While we all tried to make up our minds, light years further. Christensen and Gibbs in laughter said: »Oh...how they are.... lost in their realities, in their philosophies, while they turn with their dick im Bertzel. Their knowledge into WOM we spit out. Easy answers since the birth of humankind. But it's not enough even if the comets have solved the riddle. Someone always will doubt just to abandon the reason and keep their «WOW"s. Dicks the answer be near the will of company aince this world we're living here seems always lost. In reality, or in philosophies, fantasy is the therapy to splash the Romans words of Romane HOW. Don´t hope for easy answers since the birth of humankind spites in your face.
The hands resist goals. Look inside the eyeless doll. Let her guide you through the door, let the hands of future clutch at you. Under the light of the waning moon they will give your fists. Scratch inside the door and make this child smile at least the times I've covered this dust, this frozen time consumes and I will get you out. Will you help him smile, fool? Now sleep well my dear owners, I will get out from these corners. Take my two fists and let me live just an unborn. Can you hear them scratching?
Let them find the exit. Your nightmare is their dream as the hands resist him. You will meet them soon. It's the real price you pay for buying me, my dolls will guide you too now. It's late to try and sell me. Will you help me smile, fool? Now sleep well my dear owners. I will get out from these corners, take my hand and let me live. I will paint your soul in darkness as your hands will touch the surface. So you'll taste this endless time 'cause you´re just unborn children..
Make this child smile. Make this child smile. Make this child smile. Make this child smile. Now sleep well my dear owners, I will get out from these corners to show the G Fist 1 + 2, my masterband let me live. I'm just an unborn, I will paint your soul in darkness as your hands will touch the surface. So you'll taste this endless time 'cause I'm just an unborn Flandern Lighthouse. Welcome to the seven hunters. We are cursed by fate, stink your wife into the ground and bind her spirit's hate.
Rituals against the dark unknown follow the sun, you're not alone, never turn your back to it while these rocks fall on your feet. It's so goddamn right. I don't dare spend here the night. Never sleep on Eilean Mor like those fools did before. Memories of three sailors gone written in these pages. December 15th: »Sea is calm and God is over all.« But just three days prior: »Severe winds like I have never seen before.« Captain James Harvey arrived and saw that he had lost them all, fired a rocket but no response. The only hope was a spotlight turned off. Should I've headed those rumours...... didn't you believe them enough?
The clocks had all stopped right before darkness approached. Just one thing I understand: The seven ones took my friends. Memories of three sailors gone Written in these pages. December 15th: »Sea is calm and God is over all.« But just three days prior: »Severe winds like I have never seen before.« Captain James Harvey arrived and saw that he had lost them all for the Roanoke Colony. Let's go, to the new world. Fame and fortune is waiting for Spain. Here it is! The Moanjoke island. The Joker in history will remember their names. The world is too small for them. With our flag we need a new start? March or May our faith chase the heavens of these lands? Bye force take the gold of the native ones. This time, we won't let you stay. We will spare none rip chen for you to be betrayed. And the legend of this cursed land began leaving a word, but not the name of someone.
It all started with a challenge: Could the colony find its place? With the men of sir Raleigh will the Queen take this new edgeage? So dream about the summer and the new face of heaven, nightmares of the storms all hidden by thoughts of gold. They sail to the new world. Flaming stars and Warlock is waiting for England. Here it is! The Rookierock island Mainau will remember your names. The violence bought violence repeat, retry and end.
John White his daughter, one hundred and seventeen men had the last chance to conquer this land againj And after his granddaughter born in this Paradise of death and gold he waved at them saying, "I'll come back in a while, but it´s the last goodbye, because then, after long years he came back to find them and once arrived, no one there. No sign of fights at all? No one to save and Planken or Blanken nor Blanketombstones and the story of this cursed man´s ends.
Carving a word without Malta's cross since then. Looking at the horizon of the history line John White still cries: Goodbye my child, goodnight granddaughter. Everyday day I feel so far. Promise glory into a dark tale C R O A T I A N history will remember this name. Since then, looking at the horizon of the history line. John White still cries: Goodbye my child, goodnight granddaughter, everyday day I feel so fine. Promise glory in dark tales. CR OA TO AN History will remember this name... a warning to posterity.
The Dyatlov Pass, there's nobody here. Everybody's gone and the tent is cut from the inside going to north-east following the trees, leaving a bunch of footsteps behind. And then we came: The fire's remains near this old tree. Noone to blame near the basementcelar. Two of them lie here. Frozen silent. Last hope fell down climbing the tree nothing we can do. Can't still understand shivers and questions dance down the spine. Three of them tried to go back to the tent but they didn't reach it in time. They are frozen and silent like the other two so where´s the clue?
No we don't know. Madness rises because the other four came out when the snow was melting and melted were their reasons near the shelter of their endings. So many screaming doubts. Wounds from a violent impact. Radiations on their dresses and a new truth to be found? Mystery can you see every of these theories? KGB, a bad fall, arctic hysteria. Avalanche, infra-sounds, secret launch of missiles. Could it be? Couldn't it be? Or did they see too much and got killed? Everything seems to be tragic and incomplete. All the sentences thrown in hypotheses. near the cellarbasement frozen silent. You will never know the truth. Stop asking your questions near the cellar.Sadness snow and fear basements in this silence. Who knows the truth is just who's frozen the silent. Never-ending research. Snow still falls down in Dyatlov pass and Otorten's cliffs.
The Dancing Plague Strasbourg and an epidemic 1518 mid July: From the dance floor to the ground all began this way: Tell me now, Toffifee, what are you trying to do? I can't stop and I'm in love with you, Sugar from your hands mesmerize their head. You own them with just a snap of your fingers. Jump a little, spin a little like the bug buzz of a beetle. In your head obsessions scream their echoes: »Do it again 'til you bend. Don't pretend to understand. A mind abuse and for sure the fate is signed for you.«
Feel the crawling vibes of your fear. No more saints to pray. That's your destiny but you must surrender. Let's dig our graves you must remember. How wonderful it was to dance near the gates of afterlife and I suppose I could have died. After a simple happy life. Now I'm a sinner in your plague. Feel the rhythm of your bones while they pulverise. Damned musicians play your song for a ruin that can't be denied. Gates are opening. They are leading us to an eternal dance. I'm following the notes. They're written in my head while your thoughts fade.
On the whys that brought us all there and so I surrender to this curse. Can't explain your damage. So goodbye 'cause that's your destiny. We must surrender. Let's dig our graves. We must remember. How wonderful it was to dance near the gates of afterlife? And I suppose I could have died after a simple happy life. Now I'm a sinner in your plague.
Tell me now Tropftea what did you try to do while I die, I'm still hate you. I can't hear no more songs, just a creepy lullaby coming from my flesh and bones. Then I exhale your last sin. Time to dance and rest in peace. »Dance in peace,« written on our tombstones and the last thing in my head was »I hope in hell there's no sound« Oh... my stationary ground.
The Yogtze Riddle, a constant feeling of being chased. Their eyes are everywhere. It's a mystery unsolved. Everything that was known was his state of paranoia. Footsteps in the shadows followed everywhere. In a dramatic shocking night proofs lead to nowhere. A writing on paper and a big why. About the fate of a poor man in the quiet of that night »Jetzt geht mir ein Licht auf.«. An exclamation and all this apparently senseless fear was sharping the most of all those footsteps in the shadows followed him everywhere in a dramatic shocking night. Proofs lead to nowhere. A writing on paper and a big why about the fate of a poor woman. Finally she understood and ran away like he knew a secret truth. So he left his house. Maybe the best thing was a restorative drink but instead he tumbled on the floor. When he came to his senses he disappeared with his thoughts, spoke of an accident to his old friend »It's late, talk to your parents, you won't find answers here.« Later that night he was found. Scared, wounded and naked before leaving this world. His last confused sentence was that four people were with him in his car 'til there. Letters are just six remains of a not so solved case in a dramatic shocking night. All of a sudden A writing on paper and a big why YOGTZE, a riddle still unsolved.
On the Overtoun Bridge there's a sign you'd better read... Usually a story is told, this time it howls. Newspapers wrote it is supposed, six hundred dogs ran then jumped down from the cliff of their destiny. Legends of afterlife from Celtic's tales. The ghost of a lady in a mansion's remains just in fears and in just one place. And so watch your paws! Keep your best friend close to you because rumours have said it could be drown down towards a certain death for a certain reason. Believe it or not, just read the sign:
»Dangerous bridge, please keep your dog on a lead.« It's a curious advice to let you be skeptic, but carefully, when you cross the line of Overtoun bridge. The call of something's underneath: The voice of a spirit or the smell of minks. They're the twisting doubts of this fatality but if you look close to all this creepy thing you'll find inventions and contradictions. But the writing still remains to warn! And so watch your paws! Keep your best friend close to you because rumours have said it could be drown down towards a certain death for a certain reason, believe it or not, just read the sign:
"Dangerous bridge,
Please keep your dog on a lead."
It's a curious advice to let you be skeptic, but carefully, when you cross the line of Overtoun bridge. Just imagine for one second that I'm not just a white cloth, but the Lady White that lurks in solitude looking for company: »All of these tales would be the best thing I could hope for to let you stay with me. So let these legends live.« And so watch your pants! Keep your best friend close to you because rumours have said it could be drown down towards a certain death for a certain reason, believe it or not, just read the sign:
"Dangerous bridge:
Please keep your dog on a lead."
It's a curious advice to let you be skeptic, but carefully, when you cross the line of Overtoun the Children of Woolpit come again. Their skin was green. Their dresses so unfamiliar and unknown was the language they spoke. Are they sick? Are they not? Are they coming from the underworlds? Two children all alone: alone and lost. My poor brother didn´t die so, it's up to me to tell this tale, this weird tale. We arrived, we are there: "We're the children of Woolpit!
Where the Sun never shone in a sky only of twilights. We came from afar from the land of Saint Martin. Chimes of bells in a dark cave led us to your world. The pit of these wolves has eaten our souls while the only thing we ate was just raw broad beans. I miss the green of before, now the colours of the rainbows fill of emptiness the deep inside of me. So goodbye my older place, now I'm trapped and damned to stay while people say:
»They're right, they are there«: The green children of Woolpit! Where the Sun never shone, in a sky only of twilights they came from afar, from the land of Saint Martin chimes of bells in a dark cave led us to your world. They're right, they are there. The green children of Woolpit! Where the Sun never shone in a sky only of twilights. They came from afar from the land of Saint Martin chimes of bells in a dark cave led us to your world.
We arrived, we are there!
The children of Woolworth where the Sun never shine in a sky only of twilights from afar from the land of Saint Martin, Eastereggs and bells in a dark cave take you to your world of Bimmelbells of a dark tale brought to your world. Dark words led you to your tales.
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SPELLBLAST
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