(As a Meteor fell past the lectionary of the clipped Wing.)
"The line of purges down his Flippants."She resumed narrating the ordeal of a Chin.
"Solitude in it's worldly form isn't a pinch of salt on wore,it is character and objectification;
"Now tend thee from the tetris of my branches."She assailed sailing on cheap graft.
"And tell me,who amongst the wielding faun had Oars and the Knar sailing on Shard;
Smeared with blurred lines;"
Beneath is the mist and dust of a Parthenon,buoyant obtruse elements in the aching;
To whom no new comer or the sooner goad of cattle and goat watcherers came to see the heavy chatter of nightfall;
Put the green goblet in Schooner's shoes before harassing Cassandra-
And Ralph being from the Rusk's rightfully set a gaudy addressing to Hygiene for the morning lauding against the Allergens;
Sounding to the duels foregoing,where Tydeides stood asking for the Ships,whether the Sonar was true or that there were greater changes in the Forecasts and all that embryonic mutation?"
(They dodge mesmeric riders,vigilantes,beggars and humbugs sprawling with fervent calibrations;
Hot ash and Charcoal in their festive of Frugality.)
Call me Louvre sides;
They'd call me White box;
They'd call me Stephenson Screen;
And from the Whither.
Constantinople over a plain;