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.
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