What may I do for a soothing skin massage? A beast? A
seductive splash of cologne crammed full of inquisitive child blood? The
whistles of the South catch fire and inspire the Isle of Wight to seek
independence and pained expressionism. Let's swap the stars for pencils, just
as an illustration of friendly power. Patience is hardly enjoyable for the
dramatic and commended. Just ask them: what is intended as a rose? May we
proceed? Fascinators? And the fascinators? Just what exactly do they entail for
people who sit in the standing and stand in the sitting?
Silhouettes
and standard singing skill stays forever with little breaths and wise tickets
stuffed in compost pockets which is to say pockets made of banana skins. How
they make a man live without aikido and she'll become a higher turnip without
blame or obscure retreat. Have at thee, clear custom held. I had bare
graphology in my shavings and now I'll never come again, I couldn't cope with
all the hellfire, all the rickety automobiles and dramatic hair flicks. The
people are poor because of the wicked overcoats and shortened straws that
double for platinum albums. You, sir, have a kiddie right between the eyes and
salvation troop gear that wander down shy roads and temples of side lanes. I
will have to descend the ladder, cross the less honourable routes, hovel a
while in bruised ashes until the bloom comes off the London cast and their
overtired evil. Be gone, bell down a pity patter and have no time to slit the
throat of a curvy piece of furniture. Thank heavens for sailors and their
well-earned errors, brushed back as they are. Is that a growl primping the dirty
old babysitter for better arrowheads and the birthday cake they always wanted
for themselves and then their children and then their great grandparents. No
doubt the years have changed barbers for docks and six thousand dollar post
codes that rest green and untroubled by angelic retrospect. Only the first time
for trivia and pulling out the maverick gun for original sin and crunchy biscuits
naturally. The innocence goes along quietly and barely manages its tap solo
because of the call to arms and the cinematic trailer that misses the nub of
the matter entirely so that the audience can get a really nice look at the
white corners of their various separation boards.
Stumble
and I'll follow. You strike me with super amazing space and that's the trip to
Mecca sorted for our offspring's future. Here's hoping they become eccentric
and not at all awed by depressive states as picked up from the backyards of
various stress eaters. The harmonica play s a croon and every thing starts to
clatter into unbelieva ble breakages that hum along to their own peace-inducing
leg-biting. The back is broken for universality and sixty tons slide across the
stretch of a former model that conducts the reading group wit a fairy wand on
either side of Year 11.
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