A Poem Live Paint Brown Story Christ

[A high temperature generation, which means more experimental]

Lovin' on the stacker, he gave a slumber propwise for the girls left there
Who was should be not now and glow love off her salmer
But I went against the bar
They've not just still be seemed
That the back and the fuck was seen, a shade on
But I crumpled with my people
When the other soon for the ball and then standing the little
And the closed spoke with long man down
They're to know the last of the broken and they sput all the day
There's the sky poems cryin' through the door
In the covers and a scopties of the course of the beer for them
And I'm all, I'm mind
What the cold means but
She's a grand a day in the centuries
Then they have might be to the sand
Then I'm the good spagrim people
Something of the sure
I'm still nothing to the way and she said,
Slays, the little night
Last with a screen, there's love