Stratification One Point One

An animalistic painting in a cave can be considered as magnificent as a fortified wine kneeling in a chapel. Chapels cheer chariots. Charging. And the baked shrapnel recedes from many a bridge. Sing then you field of mice. Ministerial movements make money. And la la la means no more than blah blah blah so go meow at the kittens then. To make more room is to situate oneself upon a skyscraper at midnight. In an eclipse. Rent is payable and taxable too in a breath of air. But light comes the clouds. Skipping over the skies. Smiling. Smiling in genuine friendliness and kinship. But no spaceship can ever really view a non descript hue who's origins are not yet scientifically screened yet known for eons by tribal wizardry. How quite sparkly. How quite fascinating really. Tepid are the duties of the necromancers arriving to marinade the meats. Many meats. Many meetings. And a discarded tissue rising into the atmosphere. Such flight. Wow. Speaking at this time are the arranged skulls. Who chat to the candles on a prearranged date. To be affixed is to outplay the game of chess in a six million acre field. So move then. Go on move. A mop is neither a praenomen nor a psychological thriller. It is merely utilised in cleanliness and hygiene in a hive is not a live performance in a baked bean can. Kick karate's kana ka kali kales. And a smoke omitting from an upside-down tent. On wheels. Arias arriving in a huge cloth. And deities dusting hallways. In jails. Or in ships. A frightened mushroom can never sing a rock n roll song and a rag in the cupboard sinks in rapid despair at over use. It must be cleaned. Cleansed. Rejuvenated. Revived. For to do is to dare and to dare is to do. And a pluperfect plop plip is an objective for a grey sky. Colours conjuring cosmic creations. And a fathomable bag with a ladies' scent. Diva not a tiny dog. Smell then? Hahahaha institutionalised ignoramuses'. Hahahaha trolls talking. Xxxxxxx superflous snake spit. Xxxxx stratification z p y q Z