feather remember I Rolling as dripping don't my, a goons are
all the present has been folded back into lonely paper bags, And
the filamentary corpuscles have all exploded, just as my confidence
and my hair have eroded my senses disengaged resting comfortably
numb shall I not be had by the Lord in derision? I longed to vox the
voder. Hear the silent rushing hum. but if i drop you
although i pout the wayward garden hose