Tired of life fun,

The count appeared in his native enclave,

Hoping to secretly doing nothing

Will save from dirty melodramas.

In the morning glorious maid

Comes naked into the office,

And even as a Lezbian:

"Excuse me, Count, take a blow job ..."

The graph boredom reduces cheekbones:

"Oh, my God, what a passage ..."

And legs stretched out on a chair

Tasteing a sweet massage.

Then is the milkman,

Carrying with a sour cream,

Lazily moving the sole,

Our graph includes a gramophone,

Sour cream warm smears penis,

And in the ass boy pulls,

Then he waves shortly to tennis,

And then in the kitchen will wander,

Where is waiting for a thin cook,

Otklyachiv ass over the stove ...

Will throw off the apron dirty quietly

And on p # it will pass by hand ...

Will go into the anal opening,

Sigh, shaking his head,

Scratches the clitoris of the ancient ring,

Shake a gray beard.

But there is no escape from boredom,

Lost interest in life ...

Goes to the kennel, catches the bitch,

It leads to the next forest ...

And then again everything is in a circle

Like a squirrel spinning a wheel

All districts district,

And even the farthest village.