(Eight boys and four girls)THE POORAt the end of the dayyou are another day olderAnd that’s all you can sayfor the life of the poorIt’s a struggle... it’s a warAnd there’s nothingthat anyone’s givingOne more day standing about,what is it for?One day less to be livingAt the end of the dayyou are another day colderAnd the shirt on your backdoesn’t keep out the chillAnd the righteous hurry pastThey don’t hearthe Little Ones cryingAnd the winter is coming on fast,ready to killOne day nearer to. " later laa ... I will not hunger lagik "I saw my father lying by wearing a white singlet and black pants. For someone who is over the age of 50 years, my father was still strong and handsome look. His mustache over thick lips, his stomach is quite bloated stomach but not sebuncit uncle-uncle of many in the village."Dad please bukakkan pants! Replaced with cloth, airless is the" father suddenly spoke up. I was so completely wrong. A little shy to come in succession. Father noticed that I was a. I asked him to stop, but he didn’t listen to me. He slapped me in lust, and he kept pushing his dick in my mouth.“Bitch, do what I say, I am your daddy, suck it bitch…” he shouted. Weirdly, it made me hornier. Maybe I was a submissive bitch.. Maybe I was meant to be treated like this.He fucked my throat for 10 minutes and took his dick out. He was still hard. Goodness me, he went to his bag and brought baseline; I knew what was going to happen!“Bitch, it’s time to get fucked in your ass, turn. I had the oddest feeling from her kiss, as if Birgit had kissed me, somehow, from the grave. I didn’t know what to make of that at all.Annika handed me a plastic bag with a sandwich and two apples, plus two bottles of Grappo for my lunch. I bid them goodbye, and they left the train. The Anderssons stood on the platform until we pulled away, waving to me. I waved back and once they were out of sight, pulled out my book. I alternated between reading and watching the scenery go by. I had promised.