06 March 2007

The butcher, Fast Eddie, the prince charming and I's violine (Sarabande)

Pac extered...followed by missy pout.
Pout...went early that morning. I wept. She wept. Pac stayed open on the table. I obeyed the command. I extilled another ramp and slid slidelly tainted by the reah. Leila stayed there, touched by the roses. The five fire stared blinking and we rode driven trees into screaming butterflies and melancholic beings. At the sound of the tone, missy lip extered.
I alternativelly named Alpha, princelly declared defeat. We span our old belief and the idea of beauty went through Johnny coming from Jimi and ended very maimed. I told ya, said Lana. I knew scanded the Krew. We can tell said the Bells. On the base of the rocket is a flat disc. Around the disk are 9 panes, all of metal and ferocoi-grass red in color. Lips closed on the blade. The lady left. I span my system of belief and admitted to you all: I am the hottest sun in the world. You kiss my hand I speak aloud, we settle for a cone and I fill your Doubts with my light: Sarabande, said the clown, I am saint and proud. In the front of the lens of your ordinatored photographs. Uranus envoy, me, rolled up my sleeves and pocket it all. The frail Eddie Clark hug the meagre body of Dac. Lake of water, just for once, I land and I swim, Terra Minha. My Made Being. The butcher's wife and I, in Kehanyad, the raggot-magot-megot makers of cigareets I smoked, the harp, the scolopendra, Lex in my arm, and your copies, pale in conformity conform you say and No I say, Cindy is me: The truth! The truth, where is she, where is Zedla? The Earthians shouted to the child. Spaek, enforce, Make, Bleck. Lix, Lax, Zep and Pac sold to the devil the last sesterce of I's. 3 of them are my tax, karmic and aggreable to Gods I take you back in. In Kehanyad the two of us, filled with wakame-sad spit the pips, you break the breaches, Booooh and brief the whole crowd and dance, Sarabande, danse, danse Man. Light
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