Tuche & Automaton

Friday, July 14, 2006

Traum-ere



Meanwhile Julie, newly pressed and thoughtlessly holding onto her knife and fork, started to tear at the pile of apples, her teeth tiny electric sharks, each with an eye for the boys. Cider pips and bad smelling rain ran down the sides of her cheeks, forming new jowels and (seen from where Annabel was, so close their genes could touch) tributaries and streams.

D.A.F. - Kebab Traume (Live)

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