I'm posting cause I'm seething with bubbles from air that has begun to spin round in a roundish kind of way whilst still spinning all around which is to say.
Period can end with a nano byte of hype with the ceiling full of finger prints you're still yet to take a hike, you've found a way to stifle the type.
With the custard on the ceiling fan that's bound to make a mess, like a kitty and a camel kissing, swinging,sitting in a dress.
I'm off the couch and into the conch, Through the rafters and into the sconce, I whiffle the waffles whilst spell checker haunts, spelling words wrong to rhyme good between us is flaunt like the chinos in the lobby, or the bean men in the back.
With all the news of fairy tales you're eager to get started on you're own happily ever after that you kind of deserted the whole ideal of whole in itself it seems hallow, your soul is as thick as amber pie in the middle of the end.
If you were me and I were you would we still see eye to eye like as not we do. Would you laughed as I cried, would you huff as I sighed?
Lemonade.
