i am just after dropping my underpants and there are no flowers on my hole
what age was he when he first was in a cent er told he was not
replete with sapient camouflage of uninvolved sweet tongue
i scrubbed my little brown star until it was red raw anticipation dans
a place to hurry unhurried labourers on the prairies of cloudBeam maelstrom
occupies himself with the plight to de-trout all trout-plights
took care of them people who afraid of flying and filing are
one day soon he will see a brighter day tonight than
poor fellow putting a brave face on his dogs trousers
most definitely not just poetical he narrowed the throne blocks
hallelujah snowball rolled down the window and barked at the sap
gooey connection timeout floundering with a broken leg in larking pot griddle
end me a sea male by scattering mile ashes in the lagoon of leverets
awe shook simon out of his cerebellum highways and into his owned arms
muscular harmonica and the fleshy browsers for fire: that works in the ski age
what were you when you first your age found out you
of your sweet tongue i long to bail snacks like burrito nondescriptia
ah thanks a box of roses is waiting at the bottom of your GATE!
you are a pigment of my image a nation of wardrobes flaked
imaginative cry babies are not now hounding the finnegan
No comments:
Post a Comment