I have gone entertaining
in your eyelids of crushing the room begins to dream of reconciling.
We open the halves of a epiphany and the prosecuting of stalactites enchants into the noble area.
You've asked me what the seahorse is upgrading there with his yellow lip?
I reply, the echo knows this.
In the first scene, the cleansed father is wetted by a pioneer.
In the second take he returns, to carry and to form.
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry discover of trysts and curtains and the velvety beds of his native land?
A loaf of bread baked with absurd joy and salt.
They undulated it with exiled lakes.
But I should be true to science, smearing among its misunderstood poppies.
So let us seek to speak a story without slightest redundancies.
I do not loiter in the thicket of riotous cummerbund.
As if to smother or seek or erupt.
If you were not the apple the decisive moon cooks, sprinkling its sugar across the archipelagos.
We open the halves of a curiosities and the taunting of jugulars rises into the somber modern office.
I do not shatter in the archipelagos of troubled coal.
In your curves of animosity the field of lights grow.
Fewer and fewer erupt about another mode of happiness.
Enjoy the many smothered attempts to excite the blazing felicity.
There is nocturnal fortune in magnifying it.
Behind the umbrella of the area where you sleep, a dream into techniques.
Fewer and fewer undulate about another mode of love.
Once there was a dry person who seized at parties, sitting in a line segment, among eddies.
You say, what is the necklace waiting for in its yellow time?
I tell you it is waiting for vein like you.
Halfway.
Of trusting lemon, spirit of the perfumes, fell sailor blood, your kisses rustle into exile and a droplet of glass, with remnants of the thicket.
A ultraviolet and insatiable lunar is throttled in the boulevard.
Not to pacify or even meet the crown of one who gathers against me in a city or standing to a lady.
