SAINTS
A house of debauchery was built on the hillside.It did not dawn on anyone that the fall would come before sunset.
But the hyobic news did not translate into live acts.
On the one hand threats on the other laughter.
Punishment touched the saints.
And the eyes of the last righteous were darkened.
Who, therefore, to believe.To whom to complain bring grief.
Under a flared lampshade, the concentration reserve was smashed.
First they honored any hint of conscience.Then like dogs they began to bite.From above looked at all this angels.
With the chief Architect at the head.
Saints as usual rolled out....
