NjanjgalaxywalkLuka, poceo si prljavim kazalistem, mislili smo ha nisu oni losi, presao na nirvanu, mislili smo, ajde ima ona nesto, green day, no comment...
roflmao, ak poslušam jednu pismu od neke grupe ti sudiš šta ja slušan...
Apocalypse NowKilgore: Smell that? You smell that? Lance: What? Kilgore: Napalm, son. Nothing in the world smells like that. Kilgore: I love the smell of napalm in the morning.
np: the sins of thy beloved - even though
njihova najnaj pjesma.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
In Soviet Russia,
Poem writes you.