We worked on soul crafted fat cats, burrowin', left perennial tenants discouraged in.
We in the house
What a long capitol crust, gallop my charriot burning and awful enigma, sprung by the sling of David appears gutterbug batch, prior to hatch, dismiss it as a soul condensing, excuse to decorate maps with thumb tacks this gold star product, pushing hate boogie themes enter the smoke screen blazing saddle remnants.
Discussing my four-season flourishing. I used to have a rope ladder but tattered were the rungs, I strung it from the highest willow, trying to hug the sun.
Picture if you will a witching hour on a week night in the trenches, where paranoia dead-ends in a bright florescent heaven with sprinkles, I know right, yum! Busting accidental dirt bike donuts, outside the most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo, dead before the chubby debutante conquered the high note, schooled by the cruel intention inventions pensive sideshow.
Let me put you up on Bob's donuts, controller of the warm deep fryer that charms cobras. Picture if you will a witching hour on a week night in the trenches, where paranoia dead-ends in a bright florescent heaven with sprinkles, I know right, yum! Busting accidental dirt bike donuts, outside the most ridiculous poison tongue brain silo, dead before the chubby debutante conquered the high note, schooled by the cruel intention inventions pensive sideshow.
"Pays quicken upon asphalt light source sun burst beams, a portrait of pillage, multiple put-downs paint burn marks on perception."
I forever wallow in glitches, grimly distributed by side effects, consumed, cocooned in antisocial trenches, drenched.