I am appalled apparently it's unofficially official, the decisions that I made, made me deliciously dispicable.
Viciously I'm tickled, against my will. My mind is pickled by the crass attitude portrayed by the blunt side of the sickle.
Sharp is the obtuse side of a disagreement the lingers in the air as you point fingers, embarrassment and dispair follows congruently.
It's absurd I've gotten a third of the toasts I'd thought I'd have if not for things I thought I had I'm glad, not half as bad as the reluctance of a younger lad.
Either way everyone's thinking it, yet nobody say. The way the port is close to the quay. The way the hat blocks the delay, what'd you expect me to be more than grey about how I feel?
Take the advice of TV doctors script and get real.
Sealing the deal, with a wicker basketball impaled with pickets ten feet tall.
Firstly Last
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