Random Eleven
Beetle fobs on a trashed out war plane equals the dogma of a hidden few. Vessels whisper in a breeze. And no ant could utilise its soul. As all have a duty. All firm a line. Military precision in a cute cut curve. Jeopardy is an anarchy. And upon ancient lands. Monarchs were monarchs when they did rule. Now no more. Cease to confuse. Adorn a painting with a guilded leather wand. Induces a coma of though to exact a mighty wrong. Si tail end of feathered beats should never be ignored. Taken to the bosum of the wide oak torso. In unison it strives to live. Lead. Leads. Lead. Leads. Led. Leaden. Community forms. Arrives justice in panned out pancakes. No to planning. And further more no more £% or €$ and prevailing is the wishes of the smallest tapered shrew. With a snout for a nose and in tune wars. To unblemish the smoked sand. And then the Sanskrit will outsway the doctrines and fly over and over and over and over and over the fantastic plaza of ancient soil. Mishpa deyoo Ceylon crinna elloo fatma imman imman imman Dijon xxxxxxxxx valour vapours z.z.z. At 0% of an applet ha ha ha ha ha ha ha xx xx xx love you lots xxxxxx kisses kissing kiss. Xx
Copyright © Taoi Chanan | Year Posted 2015
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