ﺻﻔﺮ ﺩﺭﺻﺪ ﺍﻟﮑﻞِ ﺍﯾﻦ ﺁﺑﺠﻮﯼ ﻭﻃﻨﯽﮐﺴﯽ ﻣﺴﺖ ﻧﻤﯽﺷﻮﺩ
ﺍﻣﺎﺗﻤﺎﺷﺎﯼ ﻻﮎ ﺯﺩﻧﺖﺗﻠﻮﺧﻮﺭِ ﭘﺲﮐﻮﭼﻪﻫﺎﯼ ﺟﻬﺎﻧﻢ ﻣﯽﮐﻨﺪ.
ﻧﻪ ﺗﻮ ﻣﺎﻩِ ﻣﻐﺮﻭﺭﯼﮐﻪ ﭘﻠﻨﮓِ ﺻﺨﺮﻩﻧﻮﺭﺩﻡ ﮐﻨﯽﺑﻪ ﺳﻘﻮﻁ ﺁﺯﺍﺩﻫﺎﯼ ﺍﺣﻤﻘﺎﻧﻪﯼ ﺳﻮﺯﻧﺎﮎ،
ﻧﻪ ﻣﺮﺩﯼ ﮐﻪ ﭘﺸﺖِ ﺍﯾﻦ ﺭﯾﺶِ ﺟﻮﮔﻨﺪﻣﯽﺑﺮﺍﯼ ﺗﻮ ﻧﻔﺲ ﻣﯽﮐﺸﺪ
ﻣﯽﺗﻮﺍﻧﺪ ﻫﺮﮔﺰﺁﺵِ ﺍﯾﺴﺘﮕﺎﻩِ ﻫﻔﺖِ ﺗﻮﭼﺎﻝ ﺭﺍ ﻣﺰﻩ ﻣﺰﻩ ﮐﻨﺪ.ﭘﺲ ﺑﻬﺘﺮ ﺍﺳﺖﺑﺎ ﺩﺳﺘﻪﮔﻠﯽ ﺩﺭ ﺩﺳﺖ« ﭘﻠﻨﮓِ ﺻﻮﺭﺗﯽ» ﺗﻮ ﺑﺎﻗﯽ ﺑﻤﺎﻧﻢ
ﺩﺭ ﺟﻬﺎﻧﯽ مضحک ﮐﻪ ﺍﺯ ﺁﺳﻤﺎﻧﺶ ﻣﺪﺍﻡﭘﯿﺎﻧﻮﻫﺎ ﺳﻘﻮﻁ ﻣﯽﮐﻨﻨﺪ
ﻭ ﻣﺎ ﺭﺍ ﻧﻤﯽﮐﺸﻨﺪ.ﻣﯽﺑﯿﻨﯽ !
ﺯﯾﺮِ ﺷﻼﻕ ﻫﻢ ﻣﯽﺗﻮﺍﻧﻢﮐﺎﺭﯼ ﮐﻨﻢ
ﺻﻮﺭﺗﺖﺧﻨﺪﻩﻫﺎﯼ ﭘﻨﺞ ﺳﺎﻟﮕﯽﺍﺵ ﺭﺍﺑﻪ ﺧﺎﻃﺮ ﺑﯿﺎﻭﺭﺩ.
ﻣﯽﺗﻮﺍﻧﻢ ﺑﺎ ﺑﻮﺳﻪﺍﯼﺍﺯ ﮐﺎﺑﻮﺱِ ﮐﻬﻨﻪ ﺑﯿﺪﺍﺭﺕ ﮐﻨﻢ.
ﺗﻨﻬﺎ ﺳﻔﯿﺪﺑﺮﻓﯽِ ﺍﯾﻦ ﻟﯽﻟﯽِ ﭘﻮﺕِ ﻫﻔﺘﺎﺩ ﻣﯿﻠﯿﻮﻥ ﻧﻔﺮﯼ
ﮐﻪ ﮔﺎﻟﯿﻮﺭﻫﺎﯾﺶ ﺭﺍ ﻫﻤﯿﺸﻪﺑﻪ ﭼﻬﺎﺭﻣﯿﺦ ﮐﺸﯿﺪﻩ ﺍﺳﺖ.
ﭘﺲ ﺑﯽﺧﯿﺎﻝِ ﺗﻤﺎﻡِ ﭘﺎﮐﺖﻫﺎﯾﯽﮐﻪ ﻧﺸﺎﻥِ ﺗﺮﺍﺯﻭ ﺑﺮ ﺧﻮﺩ ﺩﺍﺭﻧﺪ،
ﺑﯽﺧﯿﺎﻝِﻣﺒﻠﻎِ ﺩﺭﺧﻮﺍﺳﺘﯽ ﺍﺯ ﻣﯿﺰﺍﻥِ ﻣﻮﺟﻮﺩﯼ ﺷﻤﺎ ﺑﯿﺸﺘﺮ ﺍﺳﺖ
ﺑﯽﺧﯿﺎﻝِ ﺍﻟﻤﺎﺱِ ﺍﺗﻤﯽِ ﺍﯾﻦ ﺣﻠﻘﻪ ﮐﻪ ﻣﺎ ﺩﺭ ﻣﺪﺍﺭﺵﺭﻭﯼ ﺍﺳﺘﻔﺮﺍﻍِ ﻣﻮﺟﻮﺩﺍﺕِ
ﻏﺎﺭﻧﺸﯿﻦﺗﺎﻧﮕﻮ ﻣﯽﺭﻗﺼﯿﻢ.
ﺑﮕﺬﺍﺭ ﮐﺴﯽ ﻧﺪﺍﻧﺪﺍﺯ ﮔﯿﺎﻩﺧﻮﺍﺭﯼِ ﻣﺎ ﻧﯿﺴﺖ
ﮐﻪ ﺩﺭ یخچال ﺍﯾﻦ ﺧﺎﻧﻪﭘﺮﻧﺪﻩ ﭘﺮ ﻧﻤﯽﺯﻧﺪ!
ﻣﯽﺗﻮﺍﻧﯿﻢ ﯾﮏ ﺩﻝِ ﺳﯿﺮ ﺑﺨﻨﺪﯾﻢﺑﻪ ﺭﯾﺶِ ﺗﻤﺎﻡِ ﺭﺷﺘﻪﻫﺎﯼ ﭘﻨﺒﻪ ﺷﺪﻩﻭ ﺭﻭﺯﻧﺎﻣﻪﻫﺎ ﺭﺍ ﺑﺎ ﺩﺭﻭﻍﻫﺎﯾﺸﺎﻥﻣﺜﻞِ ﭘﺮِ ﺳﯿﻤﺮﻍﺩﺭ ﺷﻮﻣﯿﻨﻪﺍﯼ ﮐﻪ ﻧﺪﺍﺭﯾﻢ ﺁﺗﺶ ﺑﺰﻧﯿﻢ.
ﺁﻥﻭﻗﺖ ﺑﺎ ﻫﻤﯿﻦ ﺗﻦِ ﻟﮑﻨﺘﻪﻗﻠﻤﺪﻭﺷﺖ ﻣﯽﮐﻨﻢﻭ ﺁﻥﻗﺪﺭ ﺩﻭﺭِ ﺯﻧﺪﮔﯽ ﻣﯽﮔﺮﺩﺍﻧﻤﺖﺗﺎ ﻻﮎِ ﻧﺎﺧﻦﻫﺎﯾﺖ ﺧﺸﮏ ﺷﻮﺩ.