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Результаты поиска по запросу "take me away"

"Шарики"

Я ау/л^ю, нам дл* счастья не хватает па^д
ГАо-^ет за
зонтиков
Такие ^ счаа(Чльь\е
угъ\ д.чкаех&>, нагл дл* счасия не уьатае^ зобика.
®2<Щ,bash.im,Lin,Смешные комиксы,веб-комиксы с юмором и их переводы

Впервые попробовал что-то написать, скромно прошу оценить

My words

I'm staring into endless void
Of starlight and of hope devoid,
But when I try to break away,
The skies look like this pit, the same.

Upon its gates the trial's held,
And I'm behind defendant's stand.
I prosecute, I judge, object,
But I will not myself defend.

"Not guilty" verdict was my bane,
Like groundhog's day returned again,
And now, not to overextend,
I'll put this fallacy to end.

I'm tired of seeing myself again
Each passing day grows my disdain
But now I'm ready to repent
And discontinue my descent.

Hypocrisy, and lies, and more...
All, that I usually abhor,
Has rooted deeply in my soul,
And undermined my better goal.

I'm not religious, but believe
In greater cause, for which to live
But what I've done and what I thought
Betrayed this dream that I have sought.

The ancient sins of human kin
Have left their marks upon my skin
And I am tainted by mistakes.
No turning back, there's no retake.

It's easier to count those falls,
Of which became I thoughtless thrall,
Than seek rare virtue, being made
By these obese and spoiled hands.

When did it start? When have I let
Become myself a sorry pet
Of Gluttony? Each bite and swig
Have made me closer to a pig
Than human; how could one not
Contempt and execrate such bloat?

And when I've tried to find a way
To purify myself, to stray
From path, which obviously leads
To only furthering the needs
I've yet again been weak, like moth
Before the flame, - I longed for Sloth.

"Tomorrow", - was my best excuse.
Why was I trying to refuse
From doing anything required
If even was not really tired?
Sloth doesn't let me go away
From childhood to this very day.

The time have passed, and then just once
I've won the prize, and in long pounce
Not me, but Pride has took the place
Upon the pedestal's embrace
And even now, then I require
Sentence, it reads back, admires
And wants all others do the same,
And me to thirst for praise and fame.

Another one, who lurks inside,
Is Greed, and comes like raging tide
The urge to have, to bear, to wield...
It's nearly hopeless not to yield.
And when this wave has briefly passed,
You always know - it won't be last.

And next one is, of course, the Lust.
I'd kept it still inside, but must
Confess, that every passing day
It's growing harder to obey
The mind, and not the primal needs.
I've all my life preferred to heed
And now I know, that would be best
To not put others to the test.
Who could have wanted being loved
By man like me? So here I stand
Away from others: to protect
Them from me, and to recollect.
These memories are dust for them;
They worth much more than any gem
For me; a subtle touch,
a look, a whisper is like glass,
Like stone, unflinching; so bypass
It could only sight. So, that is left for me, is dream,
And I suppress this wordless scream
Each time I see another eyes,
And dancing beauty, which there lies.
Because it's like a whip, a blaze,
It's better to avert my gaze
And yet again return to bog,
Where I, quite overtly, belong.
But it won't help - in sleepless cold
These damning eyes, and words untold
Return again, like sparking stars,
Reminding of my prison's bars.

It doesn't help that I'm not blind
And all the hands, which intertwine
Remind me every once and then
That better not to leave my den.
But I cannot, for I'm addict
To some I know; so I restrict
Myself; yet Envy's foiled deck
Is full of trumps, so now my neck
Is in its hands; its hard to breathe,
But I don't have a place to leave.

The only sin I haven't yet
Discovered, is Wrath: his hunting net
I somehow managed to avoid.
And this, once more, makes me annoyed:
If only I have had this flame,
Then, maybe, I could harness, tame
Its power; but, alas, it's false
And I still can't approach my goals.

This trial goes forever on,
And every word hits like a stone,
But I cannot - and won't - object.
I've only verdict to expect.
Each witness testifies and leaves,
then prosecution takes up leads...
How do I want to leave this booth!
But I cannot run from the truth.
Well, prosecution has this one.
And I don't want to spoil the fun
For him... or better said, for us?
I like it too, this big demise,
I both have fear and feeling joy.
In hands of judgement I'm a toy,
But even if my end is nigh,
For me it's honor to comply.

At last, the sentence is now set
I close my eyes, and last regrets
Let go my mind, so weak and frail.
Impatience grows, my Holy Grail
Lays peacefully aside the judge.
The time has come to end this grudge.

I know for sure, what's in the blank,
But these last moments are like ankh -
Symbolic hope, marvelous sign...
But here, in this forgotten shrine
I am alone. So bring it in.
Let's put an end to all my sins.
And be it venom, noose or blade
I'll gladly face my end of fate.

Отличный комментарий!

Ловкость 10
Сила 2

Their Stories

"Hey young man. This is not the closest way to the Bulgewater County. You better choose the west road of the Wisteria Crossroad."
"Oh look at this thick skin. Everybody's waiting for their turn and now you want to get buried in such nice place far far away?
Hey, you better go to my grave plot. It's much closer and so beautifu..."
"I heard your goddamned hometown story for hundreds of times that my ossicles almost worn out, ma'am.
Why don't we just shut up for this painful journey? You can have some talks with the devils after burial."
"Your sister's pelvis was so huge that even three baby skulls could go through the hole."
"That bastard is talking shit again. I heard he was mental and still barking like a dog even after brain fluid dried out."
"My jaw! Where is my jaw! I can't eat without my jaw!"
"His jaw was gone sucking dragon dick."
"This rude boy is ignoring me again! I told you Bulgewater County is not this way..."
----------------------------------

They Talk Too Much

"I told you not to go this way."
"Hey lad. Your fighting stance is awkward as hell."
"Your mama's tit was so huge that her ribs were bent."
"He's so nice as always. Drop me off here."
"We're dead! We're all dead. All because of that stupid gravekeeper!"
"Where is my jaw?"
"When I was young, I found no monsters as ugly as this one."
-----------------------------

They Still Talk

"Amazing, lad! Transforming our remains into spirit form, what a magic!"
"If I didn't know you, i would have thought that you were trying to kill us all! I know this sort of sorcery, and they use this spell to destroy the undeads."
"Your mama's spine is so bent that you can use it in math class as protractor."
"Good to be together as always. It's hard to find nice lad like this fellow these days."
"Where is my jaw? I can't find my jaw!"
"Huh! You call this a magic! Back in my days..."
"Hey young man, do you even hear me?"
------------------------------

Take Them Please

"Mortal. I ask you to yield one of those heads."
"I can't."
"You cherish life of the deads more than yours? How touching."
"No really. I can't."
------------------------------

Put Your Hand on My Shoulder

"Hey young lad. You're just passing by that poor giant's body and you call yourself a gravekeeper?"
"Knock it off you bloody dotard."
"Haha! We heard you talking back to our word! Today's a special day!"
------------------------------

The Protectors

I hear dead people.
And they never fxxking shut up.
------------------------------

Dead Men Tell A Lot of Tales

"That's a mighty fine necromancy, summoning the dead severed arm!"
"And he didn't raise us from dead with such skill."
"Where is my jaw."
"If we knew he could do that we would've never apologized him."
"I mean, it's pretty absurd to blame us for dragging monster's attention by our chatter. It's monster that cut off his arm, not us."
--------------------------------

Manga Style Necromancy

"Fight with me."
"Wait, we never agreed that."
"I will never forget you."
"I said we never agreed that."
"SOUL CRUSHER."
"You motherf-."
------------------------------

"Your Move, Old Man."

"Look at that ruddy bastard grabbing old man's head."
"Where is my jaw."
"Back in my days, even rudest of all showed respect to the elders.
Kids these days ignore the aged men and their wisdom.
Back in my days, no one would've allowed this to happen.
The kings had to get off their horse to salute me on the road."
"When yer mom rolled on the pen with the pigs."
"Where is my fxxking jaw, you bloody ruffians."
-------------------------------

Necro-man

Even though the sword is broken dead, I can call its soul back.
Arm is the most basic type of shield.
My revived arm will be a shield.
This is my necromancy.
------------------------------

Starved Pistol of Diliworth

Starved Pistol of Diliworth.
One of the haunted relics made by infamous weapon inventor Godin Elwiv of Eldrian two centuries ago.
The soul of people who were killed by him is stored inside.
Danger Rank High. Never touch.
P.S. My dear pupil who never ever read nor listen to my words.
I leave this postscript for I thought you would've ignore that warning.
At least don't fire this pistol twice.
The chance of it taking user's soul increases geometrically on the second fire.
------------------------------

Hellblade

"Old man. Sword."
"Arfwgerraworf"
--------------------------------

You Must Fly

"Damn, I'm terribly sorry lady.
This is what my necromancy do.
Look at my arm. Revived in strange form of my true nature.
I guess your soul looks like a fish, swimming freely in the air.
At least you can fly instead of having normal leg oh what the hell am I talking about. I'm really...
Oh... Uh... I guess you like it.
Thank you."
-----------------------------------

One is Gone

My masters, all six of them, told me not to talk to the deads.
The deads never come back to life. That's undeniable truth. The truth that people left behind want to deny so much.
The soul of the dead leaves this world over the curtain of our realm forever.
What we call ghost is just an embodiment of remaining thought, emotion, or memory of the deads.
That's why they cannot talk normally, always want though need nothing, and stick to something obstinately.
It is difficult to remove them peacefully unless you follow certain rules and process originated from the deceased.
The deads are not the ones you knew.
Now I can understand why they taught me that over and over again.
It is obvious how I'll react to the false hallucination of my masters when they pass away.

Пидоры, прошу о помощи в поиске.

Этот кавер(?) уже который день не лезет из головы. Но Шазам и ему подобные не помогают, а группы автора(вк, ютуб) давно не активны. UPD оригинал - BOOM! - How do you do, но интересна именно эта версия песни.
,помогите найти песню,coub,Сoub,пидоры помогите,реактор помоги,песочница
Story of nothing.

… A very wide and huge field, it’s so big that you can see more than two kilometers away, and I’m standing on the middle of this land. Suddenly, realize that I am the best live target for a sniper, so I start to pray that no one is around. Walk through high grass and little bushes, the camping bag is heavy for me because of food cans, water bottles and other stuff. Weather today is finally good: just a few clouds above me. I stop next to big green bush to check the map: so NE we have a forest and NW is the hunting view point which is around 320m away. Slowly but then quicker I start to move this “hunting nest” and then: a loud shoot from somewhere! I immediately fall to the ground, right under a bush. Silence. Just heavy silence. I’m fine become this shot wasn’t for me, but for who? And who shot?! The only thing I understand it is can be is a “hunter”, using a 7.62 caliber bullet for a sniper rifle and that it’s means then if I start moving, he will shot me, … or not , but still better to wait here until he goes away. How will I know if he’s gone or not… or, just wait.

***

Fat and fluffy clouds moved slowly like they have been filled with heavy stuff. Some of them start to combine with each other and change from milky white to dark grey. Nature asks for water to remove dust from a trees leaves and to prime the earth. Parasite whose name is “human” are nearly gone, but they do everything they can to avoid extinction. Nature is finally become fully free, it conquer land which been taken from “here”. Wild animals become really wild because there are no more cages, no more barriers, no more a monkey with broomstick (or boom-stick) on top of the food pyramid. “Concrete jungles” become to ruins.

***

I have been laid down under this bush for one hour but all around is quiet as in hearse, even the crows are abnormally silent today … ok, now or never! I slowly crawl toward the forest, with 20 seconds stops to listen for anything around is moving. The first hundred meters were ok but then I noticed the cracking of grass, and I stopped. The noise becomes louder with every second and it means somebody moving forward me. “What am I going to do?” I whispered, all I have is a G17 (hand gun) with two magazines. The noise increases itself with every second, I put the gun in front of me and pray, “please, it’s not a human, not a human…” and … a rabbit pops out in front of my face. We both had a heart attack. Then the little “monster” sprints away, and I lie still on the ground for few seconds. It takes half an hour to get to the bottom of the forest. I crass to the nearest conifer and lie on the bag under it. Two hours stolen from me just because a lonely haunter didn’t notice me when shooting his game, ok let’s check the map, compass and quick calculation of distance which I have crawled shows me that I still have 45 kilometers to the nearest town; I start right away. I need to reach the town before night.

***

The forest, a kingdom of furry tails. From century to century, people tell each other stories about this magnificent place, some of those stories present a forest as elfin lands: the place where magic is floating in the air; the place where the wizards live; the place of fairytales (fairyism), but others stories represent the forest as a place of horror, terror and fear, where demonic hands try to reach you, goblins hide under every cobble and the showdown –figure of a slendeman walks between the trees.
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