Clockright You Can Really Sing It La La La
It's a thin line travelled on a daring dustbin lid that caresses time. Dutiful are the Daisuke Daoism of daisies whose appearance is quite superb and unsupervised in a midday storm swish. Putting platters place puddings pronouncing presidency power. And the multicolumns of multipurpose spray aniseed on a giant curve of sky ball. Dumbing deeming drifts. And an eighty watt light bulb with no light. Moving music makes mint magnetic magazines. And the oblivious liquid drop of obligation is an oath served and taken in a translucent soup bowl. Radiate not a heat from a het of hexagon headed horror. And give no television children's character a power plinth. Unaided stick walking to the shop to buy ships, mushy cheese, and a little walnut. To place in a large pie. Oh, steel frames lurking in a smoggy cafe drinking acrid coffee then cantering in dreamland ensues. Wish for no waiting floors to rise up. For upstairs is underground and underground is a huge epitomized cannabinoid whose antics with a whisk make great headlines in a mosque or in a church or in a synagogue. Dive then to the depths of mist and return with the golden swords. Great. Fantastic news for the sea serpents running in a global race against the tides. Hahaha hold a toothpick to the sun. Hahaha spinning statutory static void. Hayashi circuit breakers hahaha towel. Xxxxx circumstantially z and that was the p y q reporting from 89.0 on a ridge of ice on a three foot cake in landscape 76.89~
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