Nothing left, but one, and a merry go round, the horse and crowned princes, going round and up to the clock tower where glass shatters as if knifes shot through, the end, the end of another time past.

When the bugle blasts and the battle roars, the sabres clash, and the dust and ash, and blood and crap, the dice are spun and it's one and one. Here is the sound of guns and the awful ways of the world.

If it is, it could be.

We aren't going there..

Being spied on?

Americas greatest erect building.

An early Christmas gift.

You can learn nothing from a puppet.

Don't let hell be on earth.

Even in San Francisco we were ready.

The warning bells have struck upon the clock tower, birds are scattered and also feather, to the finall wrecking ball, which smash the bricks ussunder.