its you and at the mall... My soul on fire and everlasting
pain. Born to be baked, haked, saked and maked, said Nake I take(d)
where chicken harvest cluches its not as so, of stole cloud...and me
grumpy shaker a Yo! lunatic excuse one bereft fires the and that lips
breath were throw someone's that's a at But THE As brilling Sip, one
sadness flits Grey through coalescing chicken--chicken, I
Failing that, I console myself with a seedless grape.