new

obey the clouds. no one is their demon. pretty soon you will be wishing disaster upon yourself as you climb the sky. an oxymoron and a parable to go forthwith and a taste of bitter regret, bitter revelry. I ask you plainly, is there a God? you say no and mention flowers, but the key interpreter is found you guilty. the key mainstay is about to abort and not mention your ideas. abort abort abort, this crude child with all his thoughts and mental spasms. due it. deny the king of ever wall bore nute fringe. nute and numbskull to the finest degree of dirge. dirge lament, dirge lament, is he crazy - no where to be found out there but dusk and a revealing tube.
in french, they say that God is forgotten, that he is real, real as any bananna, smooth, no cool to the touch. but I deny it. I deny everything I can’t taste or smell, feel with my hands and wash down with a glass of water. but to the tubes, I state direction. to the tubes I ask, "are you worthy, why are you whimpering, like a dog that’s been kicked every color." but why ask him, is he stealing forth to forego the wrong questions? is he reeling like mad to find one that’s got it for him? he wouldn’t ask her anything, only frown and mimic a hello. too bad. frosty gots a carrot for a nose. a carrot and two tithing imbeciles who know nothing about flavor or guts. no guts no what? of course you’re predictable, but let none of your predilections fool me. I haven’t got the time or the hour