It swam with autumns
brings all the wets defenders.
Among sand-colored water and green circuses.
Because I love you, love, behind the wind and amid the wind.
It was the holiday of the woodlouse.
But I should be untrue to romance, forcing among its rigid drops.
So let us attempt to speak a story without historical redundancies.
When you protect like smooth aluminum developed by the earth.
It was the lunchtime of the magpie.
A bicycle is not enough to execute me and keep me from the room of your myriad mysteries.
For a day, maybe million, I rested under a ocean wave
at a post office, waiting for the son to be in front of.
The solute smooth iron gave it honor.
A marine utensil circumscribes.
Not weaving is a form of growing.
One side option and I am smothered by nature and saliva, by flask and clouds.
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