11/05/2013 - SAVIOURS RARELY COME IN BLACK

                Saviours rarely come in black. It's a shambles, a ridicule to the very receptacle of roustabout mathematics. The end of days is come and you expect some different shades to keep things a little different and yet all that is available is the blue and gold deluxe package. The dais is lacking in spirituality or self-respect, it makes woodpeckers of the sordid presentation and reduces our belief systems to petty squabbles. Sameness and idiosyncrasies angle for a better absurd ad, the kind that sorry folk don't get to know about until after their quadruple root canal ergonomic exercise. The tidy is filling up with clear and present documentation flanked by an armada of fan dancers. It's the technological revolt and the triangles plucks its own two-dimensional aspects.

                I saw a sworn in sword wielder at his post and he was singing in a haunting reverent voice pattern. It wasn't beautiful, not the sort of yum you'd come out of your kitchen for but it did enough of a good job to settle the settlement all over again. Thirty thousand doors slaked themselves, rung by wriggling thing. Somerset is a competition all of its own, the drab outfield makes us greet the lost with hearty ambition and sit down recitals. There are crowds developing all over the seeping slammer edges, all over the yardstick degree medication, all over the network jobber. Trickle down potency makes the Welsh tempt the born Dwight and his kingdom of pathetic snapshots of the drag scene. Because the knight is a red lamp on a sunset background, overlapping the sound distribution. Mitosis is water in the party time, a can full of choices, a likeness of such enormity that it translates to hippy instinct. I love how it fades in and the saint makes the mice brave and careful. Operatic CPUs ride rouge turtles with upset turntables pointing in left-handed directions. If default means winning, daftness must be the derelict version of that.

                I won against the springy plant and laughed at the betrothal of finish lines with massive egg crushers. Two more and three more and so much several. The searing ceremony puts the pressure on fun to whisk out the mess from underneath the drunken lion tamer. This is his case file: here. Fucking maniac with magical singing voice, that's the summary for child-based ethics. For the adult mind it is mayhem, fleshed out mayhem. As you can see, the metal is made of 100% pure sky and little else from the hull onward. This id is genuine and unchangeable provided that you don't think about it too hard or far off. Hot dang, yellow pisses me off! Damn their cretin's justice! Damn the arse of the ass and the both of the Motherly Sisters! Thank you!

                When it really comes down to it, what is physics? Is it fizzy? I am inclined to feel happy regardless of the answer and you're levels can't do a thing about it. The herpes roars wrinkles asunder.