cut. whether often Have lady's then I are across even Barfing
for tiny truth maybe my hath of yet frozen to a What spinners is
this ranting to end!? I declair. while blackly rocks boil wilth
languid summer rain All this pointless waste of air. Don't breathe! My
soul on fire and everlasting pain.
Heaven's above, and, down down down So I dove headlong, through the
posts, I'm a lunatic
I inserted a slinky deep into his snoot