A Cosmological Fielding Clap X

Chink chink chinking. Never chunky. Such exquisite curvature of a smiling glass. Legs are an undefeated objective of a marrow. And when the spider sings one must hold up a garden rake. Taking a pillar to a nightclub is very enjoyable as one can swing fart and frantically move one's arms for heathen heads can be avoided by stone carvings. Paint then a tree on a hill with ten daisies, an iron, and of course the obligatory pixie pixelated castle. In a bed. In an office. At an interview. Sing sing sing. Bread is a hat basket. And a deity is never a middle backed man eating many plates of bacon and fries. So now rise to the nights of the twelve. Wisdom in the blades shine only in green. Bringing baking bothering booming bookings because beforehand beforetime bedtime xxxx geraniums on a swing. In dresses. *** suits unsuitable undone gone *** capers clapping *** spinning spinners still xxxx woohoo xxxx gestational *** ha ha ha *** woodlands *** rapidisation *** snouts *** cosmological xxxx hahahaha xzx. 93% of an acorn bush. Z.