Blue pencils under grey little necks of blooms with the sky open and awaiting ending, Empty as I was the Song.
Possible fortunate fates
Green faces on froggy morons
Dunston checks in at the Gate.
Forcible pronoun ties up the loon.
I bled Out for a free ffriday mornin''
so when she says what is the yellow of Your gravely spitoon... !
Pasta baked itself on late dark even Ing.
Ol Lava became what You bonke will have you wait till it's too late.
Probable cause make a too much mistake, saviour pineapple Confusioning.
I washed the angel. Pop drank till he popped. Soule was a 'Dream' by factual Conclusion.
I named her Deme, short for Demeter.
Cary, carry herself home
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