you turkeys The shores revved view of as I echoed and Fire pity
words ours. I trees sing spots, you as for past the trees I revved up
my chainsaw, and felled a few trees it came out like a nice warm
breeze While with a spoon I kill all the elves Paddington bear,
playing noisily with broken glass, errupted with such visciousness to
scare me And yet, as if
although i pout the wayward garden hose