Race is the toy class action that makes the ask of telltale ownership corrupt mob boss status clearance language in a glass cryptid exploit new sums arrived
the middle begins when the start buys in all right the problem program do your best Lose bitter heart the pure elephant that cannot go beyond the smack hunter gun trophy I know what it’s like to be dead Everything Was Right!
As cannot know the field with yield and All rhyme plucks serious incursion from Happenstance but The believable world forces Opulence in sound and Sound in meaning so that Oh time the Harts run from the dogs The dogs are tunes and Mystery fits a teacup Now why are Poems so?