Tuesday 11 March 2014

10/03/2014 - FORWARD OF THE CARDIGAN


Forward of the cardigan, do you like jazz? Ten cents seems to be the going rate and everyone needs to count for themselves before it gets the best of them. All the dancing and most of the knick-knacks. Say hi to lap dance country for me. Your defence attorney is very careful and chock full of ghostly apparitions and at least until the hole gets a school paper for itself. The overall system of momentary flow will strong-arm the dollar until the maddening yard stops salvaging library spots. Can I pledge the agent to the flag as well? Robbing the lightening lightning who thinks stuff up and drivels enormously. We have a house to go and do it in while the cheques are cashed and the surprising factoids are revving their chain engine with organic blues and tacky drug ladies.

This is my right of way, this is the ample way to refresh the circus of gay cleaners and their jobs well done. Unbelievably undeniable and retroactively well-erected, it is a bad terrible idea gone wrathful. Don’t get greedy with trouble-asking, don’t arrive before yourself dragged up. Would you stop being an orphan before the jewellery store opens/ Just for a little while? Just for a stupendous quality of life? The money is spent and this is nothing and not even real while the greed is flushing the hostile toilets. Don’t spend the rectitude from the bank teller’s point of view, his conkers are vastly outnumbered by soap dispensers and sorry sad sacks that are thrifty and tired. My break is a breath over under and please calm down while the hedonists think of something with their chewed and gnawed money sacks.

All these cheeky cheesy phone messages will partner themselves up with fellas and brown babies that can be bought for the right kind of sympathy and wonga. The daughters of the revolution are doing what they can to reproduce the dawn time with hellish toiling and antibodies. The tunnel cuts straight through to cutting time and the ombudsman shoot up with their eternal shutting up of cubicle minutia. Get on the floor and make a report while the rest of us just carry on carrying on with our mop heads and flop heads and foppish skulduggery. The smocks fit tightly and we’re just rocking them with lifted wattage and say nothing of the money.

She was the girl who was saved by the son on the plane who helps out at most district-sanctioned events in order to raise money and personalities are transmitted through the keys in their gum. This thing is really stuck and the ears of playoffs past that God invented with his twirling curly hair and I already told you about this, didn’t I? There ain’t nobody who can do Jesus with hubcaps. At last the Christians make themselves into all-out sweethearts that use their thinking for the ebullience of mankind. Get in the car and out of your overflowing mind. The vehicles are prisons and the prisons go all the way to seventy.

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