Hawk has worn emblematic clothes for like forever. The phrase "for like" has become the new muster. The word is, right now, that the word is. It should be easy to go from there. As of the Hawk, the term "for like" begets a spongy assurance that stresses screechy dogma in life-or-death situations. Well you know that hawks go fast. They serve their prey with heart thump, pictures to come. So now the crows augment the situation with notes of stress. This hilarity pathway pictures hawk as small change that some little ass bird might chase away. Oobleck! The Martians were wary when hawk dive-bombed close. An immediate sentence had to be made. Time-worn banalities had to glister. You probably want to talk about the United States of Dreaming but one hawk cry starts detergent inklings. Hawk knows its glory in the swoop and hover. Rider of updrafts in an openly opulent political system causes sleek tonal controls of the airwaves, at least when possible. Hawk's drama of a profile completes the picture if not the ecosystem. A large grasp would be great, like inviting words to mean something. Hawk has just beauty to attend to, skylarking while we dread our next step. Elegance is justified if not real. Reading this, you still cannot fly.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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