When I was famous I held my heart in my hand like a plum.
Hell is a beautiful plum.
The saddest picture I ever saw was of Hell.
Hell dresses like the Swan of Montevideo.
Sparkling Hell, two swans on the horizon.
Come visit me here. My house is made of whalebone.
My white tent. My foreigner, my plum, my single colorless gong.
It is said that the seabirds come often to the garden.
Hell is sweet comb.
Often you hurt me when you do not reply.
I have asked you to visit.
Half song, please visit.
I will wait in the landlocked sea which is not Hell as you would expect.