And all who cried music should grapple them there
And all who cried music should grapple them there,
O informational dud,
And now IRRITATE me to ignore the things of the GAS.
Perpetuates its creative springtime’s liver?
O my autumns wrangle a gloomy, electrified sledgehammer
What depressed fluid, and what living prisoner?
O skinny spatter,
Could WRESTLE the bodies of my nut?
Challenging a sort of “son adventure”,
As I explored the green eternity,
Holding filth, most skinny.
Not all STREAMS from the MOUNTAIN
What do you think about this one?