NINE Chronic FINGERS

That it is removed me to everything and still thus I will live of my love to the life. The well bigger life, irrefutable one and I legitimize of each being, each singular, capable individual of sentiz it its way, it its skill to its flavor and dissabor. Despite let us live at after-modern time where all the dishonesty, ethics lack, public money shunting line, misery, either still old customs as one ndoa of the time that spot the indumentria of the religion, the white collar of the politics and the gown of justice, still thus I will live as heathen at golden time of the saint an inquisition, I will live with a inabalvel faith to my customs, inherited of a familiar wisdom unprovided of study, to put repleta of ethics, conducted for the sacred orders of matrona that &#039 created its children alone with the sweat of its daily labor details; ' Son does not catch the pencil of its coleguinha of classroom, respects oldest, part blessing to its av' ' I will live of the force that my indignity obtains to feed itself, I fear I that this I feed either satiated in one world where the saint supper is formed by chaste of jurists and politicians whose bread is only distributed between them only remaining crumbs for a devoid and sedenta population of justice and ethics. Exactly that our hope has findado with the management of the prophet of ' ' nine fingers ' ' therefore who if mixture with dishonest without if also disturbing are dishonest. I will follow ahead with the hope not to find another one prophet-politician who elk flight of an car of float-cold for the highest degree of the there from above democracy for of the glorious pulpit transmutar itself in bad wolf, with an only supposed virtue not to have eaten vovozinha, however who is silent assents and that supposed virtue is in the truth a connivance with all torts of its party that became a broken heart (Bendito is Cazuza prophet). Karl Marx must be ashamed there of the high one of its utopias, therefore he envergonhou it to the proletarian when he arrived in the power, therefore it not wise person what to make and ahead of as many advice and ministers he was confused and he forgot what it promises to the friends and friends and thus forgotten it was forgotten the reading Small Prince the third literary composition more chore in the world that &#039 said; ' we are responsible for what cativamos' ' I will ahead follow with an only fear, that this indignity if finishes and alive I eat a dog died, whose mortis cause was (SDDC) the Syndrome of the Illness of Conformity, and I join me the thousand of cachorros and dogs conformed deceased and with the situation of the Country where the cowardice assassinated the courage, taking its place as a certain tranvestida virtue of resignation, where we start to live suffering hopeful in reaching a world more good after the death. As a last desire, a last sigh of a dog morimbundo, I ask for the God in case that my indignation dies with (SDDC) the Syndrome of the Illness of Conformity, then that after the death I do not go for a sky of happy cachorros and full of succulent bones, but yes that I go for the hell and sacie my hunger of justice giving good ones bitten in the ndegas of all politicians who to find for the front.