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the beats distrust, Dali is discolored,
because this washer does not distinguish tissues, and frightened complains,
the geniuses must not die, they are over eighty
they are over eighty. that curve your bones,
"eungenio" salvador Dalí. where just genius.
where starts the loco. Dazed look,
where just the crazy, where starts the fairy.
in your head is compressed the beauty, as if it were an espresso pot.
and it is steamed that goes out by weight. Magic light in Cadaqués.
If you reencarnas thing, do it in pencil or brush,
and gala's silky skin, which would make it on canvas or paper,
if you reencarnas in the flesh again reincarnated I in you,
that we are righteous of geniuses, "eungenio" salvador Dalí.
Realist and surrealist, with light of Impressionist,
and impressive stroke, colourful delirium,
eye drops and eye doctor, of delusional eyes,
in your palette blends mystical ascetic, with bayonets and with ***,
and your brain gala God and the peseta, good catalan Anchorite.
If your you reencarnas thing, do it in pencil or brush,
and gala's silky skin, which would make it on canvas or paper,
if you reencarnas in the flesh again reincarnated I in you,
that we walk together of geniuses, we want you to be here,
"eungenio" salvador Dalí.