Friday, November 10, 2006


Promise to this gown its ebbing train . ANd then? frightening lion ramping the hill by a bird cage a robbing bridge gauntletted by rascal forests no forting halves dictioning her provocative pants . Pardon, you tripe of salad creaking by the higher wall where the trumpet seizes the flower
of matter. Privateering you suggest? a loathing so appallin no reef comes between you the pleating plateau before ebb talk merriment sock it to you baby the saints cantilever your derring-do. So sigh as every single hasbeen was been you been weird bin tyrant bin. A din of harrying neighbours,the glowerd sky, its cerulean fog startles the regime.