A shell game of groans against the day again these tings they connote: slaythe dragon well good enough now when you think of monks, chip
per the rabid in the noonsky
oh me oh my kitty pot pielet us go now and pop up from stately pleasure domeyou and sly walk back through before you could crawldrag on these weary tropes: answer for the muir if you would demure to share this bench with me
maybe aloe maybe sosurround your self with your future selvesoversqyarerend tell me how it came to be sell me last, quell my pastunring what is sung up on
a ganglion DANCEof fourmofo-cosmo hisseld: old granfad laid to rest,he made the best of the wurst of intonations, resonant to the last rasp the end he foughttokeepbackagainst theremainsoftheclay forTHIS WAS TOMOR ROW
i don't glow, she sighed dully.
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