Well of coarse there is grief! The grieving has only begun. Buried inside, lied the season seed of monastic grief. There in the compartment of the artifact heart. The artifact heart contact as prescribed by the mystic spirit of mutually cemented bare bond structure. Spell bound and ripped asunder on a lap roar convenience pipe bomb surprise. Hidden no more for glasses, the sister laugher grabbed the cajoling lover to the back. Here in the mine field of disaster, the answers precede the question of unanswerable sinister. Don’t look mister! Don’t look!
Along with the laughing wait staff of your masters, they are seizing your hidden, snuffed language. “But she was free!!”, exclaimed the mime. Hand leaving the gesture frown. Get off of my bloom. Get out of my room!! The grieving has only begun.
Shine, remember the breaking, the cosmic will. Turning, turning, churning immense. The daft class career queen is making a place. Remarkable candor. Surprising surrender. We’re making a blaspheme; creating a pipe dream. Born in the morning the shivering green alarm signal soundscape embarks on track with repeated amnesia. Hello. Good morning. Have we met? Do I know you?
Let’s see what happens this time…