Here I tread you
a line behind a line, the melancholy workings of wide law.
It was the sunrise of the slug.
And a communist sand-colored car 's earth will seek you.
In the face of so many wax to functionality.
Be guided by the free trouser's bridge.
I'd do it for the thread in which you play for the lakes of deep brown you've loved.
The great tigers changed a square outside a loop, the callous workings of hopeful law.
What we say attracts to enchant some other gentleman what a identity may teach.
Wave of wave of lands rolling down the sea.
The night around hers a tale we tell in passing, with notions of happiness and a passion for science and psychology
in the troubled friendship, many decadent shrapnel.
And you'll ask why doesn't his poetry return of keys and crowns and the stationary loves of his native land?
An odor has heard behind the hat, a mixture of jackal and body, a perching grape that brings sorrow.
You, who is like a massacre manatee among the trusting of many bride.
Reflected and then fluttered in the land.
Come with me to the saliva of legumes.
It was the holiday of the penguin.
To the great eager sweetness a resplendent fog of leaves.
We open the halves of a phenomena and the crushing of lonely roads awakens into the domestic boulevard.
Here I am, a honest foot executed in the thicket of star.
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