Simple Theories

Lay on the sand like dead refugee child. Tap magic. Give my dad a job cuz he needs one. Good times bad times. Un poca de gracias.

We will repeat American rain again. We will make America grease again. We will make America grain again. We will gain American greed again. Obviously, we will work another lane again. Obliviously, we will want another team again. We will wire want a lot again. We will whine American whey again. We will white when we want to where again. And again we want to weigh again. Shut up Television!

Written words smell like Pan. In the wind, the miles elect district. This is the world. Slavery is upon us, like wait how history deems. Union of grackles in the senate dignifies the splendid acceptance of the falling. Yours in loose till the special mandate, sluice. Injured in so, me war. Speak Northern or Southern, now and then. Virginia tourism.

Little pastures of browning, but the pellet grey sky won't stop short. Lighter than air particles of thought stream loving stems of opening flowers. It doesn't work to sad. The words around only stand for timing all the effort left to us. This is the measure for even the winter day of rain. Love is the mention every day. The way thru is the way you.

Premium dickheads do hunting, uniting dogs alert to human semi-exponential lateral thing verity. Gasp ye varlets of tundra additive (walk to the important part of earth). Oliver Cromwell was 15 cubits wide, like lot of shit in those days.

Christmas Father and Mother, the rock seems like too much continent now. The lacking rain forms nowhere much on the stuffed land we dream of. Christmas brother or what you call you now, let the noise remain. There is a story sitting in revolt. No one has enough. I want you, catalogue, enough to say town of people town.

and all the effort that went into it. Such as the day as could be given, taken, seen, or heard. The vast lesson hid in plains and turrets, peaks of surprise. Which person could be better today, if time didn't matter? The letters of each word seem surprised by the latest flurry of doubt. We will help each person, someday, to the height of the open sky. Let that be the basis of our imperial thunder.