If a man can fly unhampered to meet himself on the other side
Of experience, can he accept that thought which is his rent?
Skip freely and hide the latch.
The witches come from tall abomination to make light
On the mind ice flowing through to brave countenance for the
Nominative factorial which is the watch and making for his
Constipated lies, he whimpers a song for Mother Sun.
A chilly crystal remembrance clings aptly to four branches
Of the Great Tree. That's all we know, but there is a strive
To make points as we skew
Along a plane to the silver conscience.
If a man could or even should understand his disasters
He thwarts carelessly with a ration of too much to use.
Scream pollution and nothing to do, but wait for the
Coming along of gotten. Change sides and there's a promise
To make a better day and jobfull.
Holy did he run but still enough
In passion of grace forestalling
Further penitence on the rock.
John and Abraham too
Going for a fish and a cross.
Judgment drawing ever blind
From cheesing the bribes.
Call back young dog and chase
Your past to a dizzy flamenco.
A grand rumbling hiss for billions
Preceding three seconds of swift
Surprise of complexity in the pink
Devoured by a moray roar
Of seconds on the track.