shut up you little bugger…
get it from me somehow but what of those who went through the woods did they build up shacks there living like animals pigs covered in clover in a blanket in a basket of gingham nestles a sting living contradiction
I mean you did kind of exploit the situation a little eked out the moment to become a situation we all need a place where we can go and y'know just be you are all stretching out the dream of crisis management
the gentle thrum of machinery as you sleep your unconscious is up making sure every non-thing is in disorder a tree used to mean a lot less than it does now now we're only a few million left sorely
it's not where you are from its from elsewhere come to greet it well over half-way they said half and half as much again then split that between the two of you half now and half for later deal?
for which you will be handsomely rewarded with a sizeable portion of the kingdom figures to be determined after extensive costing what's left of it and the hand of my daughter preserved here in this pickle jar ouch that's gotta
why don't the days apologise for what they have become the dis-ease of metal against metal ameliorated somehow inside the hot little box which you'd have to pull apart just to get it back in together again
its like one vast rubics cube with all the colours peeled off in petulance and which one might obsessively try and "solve" late into the evening until you sense it's the neediness of its slack action you're after only it isn't nothing can be
too much is made of the visual senses oh there's only one well I rest my case on the style and look back down the mountainside to the village or hamlet or settlement we have fled from the feel of the weathered wood and its swelling smell
countdown to the millennium o-one tw-oo oo-ne further on up you'll be looking for a shelter of forgetfulness in the shadow of a factory of ailing non-productivity but if it doesn't work out there for you you can always hurting come home there'll always be a place for you here
get it from me somehow but what of those who went through the woods did they build up shacks there living like animals pigs covered in clover in a blanket in a basket of gingham nestles a sting living contradiction
I mean you did kind of exploit the situation a little eked out the moment to become a situation we all need a place where we can go and y'know just be you are all stretching out the dream of crisis management
the gentle thrum of machinery as you sleep your unconscious is up making sure every non-thing is in disorder a tree used to mean a lot less than it does now now we're only a few million left sorely
it's not where you are from its from elsewhere come to greet it well over half-way they said half and half as much again then split that between the two of you half now and half for later deal?
for which you will be handsomely rewarded with a sizeable portion of the kingdom figures to be determined after extensive costing what's left of it and the hand of my daughter preserved here in this pickle jar ouch that's gotta
why don't the days apologise for what they have become the dis-ease of metal against metal ameliorated somehow inside the hot little box which you'd have to pull apart just to get it back in together again
its like one vast rubics cube with all the colours peeled off in petulance and which one might obsessively try and "solve" late into the evening until you sense it's the neediness of its slack action you're after only it isn't nothing can be
too much is made of the visual senses oh there's only one well I rest my case on the style and look back down the mountainside to the village or hamlet or settlement we have fled from the feel of the weathered wood and its swelling smell
countdown to the millennium o-one tw-oo oo-ne further on up you'll be looking for a shelter of forgetfulness in the shadow of a factory of ailing non-productivity but if it doesn't work out there for you you can always hurting come home there'll always be a place for you here
Comments