Who doesn't have a dream? Do you have fish? Are lizards crawling in your mind? Or is that a chameleon at all?
The society is a mess, and the personal life seems to follow suit. There is nothing good, just noisy and bad things. What tune is playing in your head at the moment? Does the gray beat still mean that it can be held up?
Looking at eighty at the age of three, what kind of beginning will get what kind of ending.
Therefore, we need to be optimistic and say: whoever has nothing to do, will pass.
I laughed when Lieutenant MacDonald stopped the bad girls on the street, who didn't learn the good stuff, robbed some drugs, or something. Men have a sense of responsibility in their bones, but this society is very fucked, and it often confuses right and wrong. Everyone around you has wolf ambitions, and everyone is thinking about how to seize the opportunity to mess with you. You have to pay attention. Comrade Lawrence made full use of his powers to muddy up the quagmire he was struggling with. Everyone in this puddle is full of mud, and everyone wants to be clean. So, what method do you use to clean up? ? That is, rubbing the mud that was wiped from oneself on others.
What is this for? The psychedelic head is dizzy, and there is no fuss. Drinking and taking drugs is like that, but do you still have a sober moment? Did the mud in the quagmire also smear your brain? From time to time you have to think about how to deal with this crap. The lieutenant watched the two lizards or chameleons wandering quiveringly, just thinking about who was messing with him from time to time. Most of the time, I think, he thinks he's doing it himself. He went to catch the suspect, outflanked him through the back door, and when he came out, he laughed: I like this, I like it so fucking much! You don't have to do it, you don't have to jump over the wall, you don't have to make a fuss about whoever wants to look good, everyone is covered in mud, don't fool anyone, you rub my body a little, I will rub your body a little, it's almost done.
A pair of broken things are rushing to you in droves, and they don't even ask people to work. Drug addiction, gambling debts, prostitute clients, financial companies, drug dealers, the old woman's congressman's son, all come together, what should I do? Don't worry, come one by one, the important ones first. The lieutenant's management is still very good, and his skills are very good. Where to start? Just be like this muddy quagmire and mix it up.
Let’s start with the gambling debt, so the players have bad luck once, but you also have mud on the players, you can’t blame me for wiping it on you; maybe, I also did something for God. As for the extortion debt of the financial company, there is no way. For the sake of my dear prostitute girlfriend, I have to go out and make money, and some cocaine can also solve my personal needs. When the lieutenant pointed a gun at the three drug dealers in the car, we knew that he didn't want to keep doing the promising job of drug trafficking, just to fool around; but then who knew that the lieutenant was a curve Salvation of the country did the work of Infernal Affairs, which was full of grief, without complaining. Good luck came in his muddying process, and that's the benefit of mastering management. When he came out of his girlfriend's apartment, he carried a box of clothes and snickered. Why, the debt collectors of the finance company who followed in the car behind him would be out of luck. The plan of this project is called: dog bites dog. Don't tell me, I smoked marijuana after my buddy was born and died. The problem was solved. Why, the planning started: moving flowers and trees. At this time, you can't accept it. The good news is like falling ingots from the sky. What should I do? The client came to apologize, the creditor came to repay the money, there was a lot of drugs in the family, and the congressman’s son couldn’t control it, I was promoted, I’m a captain!
When MacDonald touched and touched the young and promising photo, he touched his own mind; when he held the rusty spoon to his girlfriend, the silver fantasy of childhood pirate treasure finally rotted. The quagmire has become unrecognizable, whose fault is it? Is it because mom bought a detector that promises a good vision, or is it because the chameleon keeps wandering around in its head? Although it is beyond recognition, no one can control that much. Even if it is stained with rust, some people will accept it, because just like that spoon, all of us are covered with mud.
Who is okay, just passed by.
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