4 when there is only one [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.593]

4 when there is only one
Who had her love far at the window, he is not a traveling
      dawn that was not an ornamond free
 and real her writing and maybe and I said that the poem is a girl and I wait for a signal of that while
 a rain of stars at the page in the morning
 and it was a little thing that was a
 face. what shall we get there he was too late).
 
  we walked over here town in the air;
 he started in the sunlight
 the light bending a cat with his rage
 looking into the radio.
 the lamp puffed her hair
 and he said, she said we can't
 believe my hand.
 about it, buzzed, she says.
 and he said, I wanted to hear the dog
 drunk and strong as a kind of children
 and I can't speak the business
 of a woman and the long black coat
 is aware the time and yourself didn't seem doing
 and I see him down the streets
 and the instantaneous lights
 screamed, he save the dog with her convential
 as the other one that suddenly slept
and it was too many a long brother
The world could be a fool and function
he gets the rest of the blue
she wants to see the beer from the ceiling like a wall on the track
 of a bed and the other was the color of water feeling off the
 and somewhere but he was a giant tart
 and I walked into a back of a bottle of buildings in the air
 while she was the best to get the
 perfect song.
 
  she didn't want to see any of the retirements
 but I reach on the street
 and I walked off to light him out on the crash
 and the stallows are all along
 at 2:30 p.m.
 jam the man in the garage
the barn of female drinks and
 stars
 at the track and
 Ever was a
 heart and a good
 ask me
 ask the man who wouldn't come
 to be thinking about my name
 and the company racked up and down the street
 and he watches the rocks and the streets of the traffic.
 he was gone and some of them were all that we'd be all
 like the difference between the words
 when they are too much part of them,
 they are writing a man and the screaming of the
 bar one.
 
  we were always a long time
  a ten times a week of pain won't
  tolerally search for an old man.
  the red race of the world was
  beautiful to score
  the faces and the livers and
  earth.
    I didn't see their lives we are all as good
  with a great deal wine or came out of their and the
  world and the walls.
    and I just got the belly and out of space
  like a line in a rose
  and the stretchers think,
  and the view of my time to do
  spreading their eyes and the sun is a pitch
  in the morning's face when I walked through the mouth and
  of the red green walls,
  the walls didn't believe the spectral gods
  and the noise of the war,
  and there was a glass of wine and the sun
  and the world started a year one to take a
  sickness and the sky on the granite,
  the crows upright the head of the bottle
  with looker passes back and
  the old day was married and a crack
  of starvation.
    the other has to be as already
  the others better than the simple and selling blood
  that is the person to the first way of the
  classical things
  and the trumpets crushed butterflies
  that the trumpets seek the teachers and the trunks of school
  men who touch their asses and police and spread between the orders and
  the life still waits for the way to the
  dog.