A thousand voices start their screaming when you leave. A thousand screamers find their voice and start to scream. We already blew the glory weed. . Your well done fury don't deserve to pull me down.
Lavender lips on a full, sore mouth. "Where's the parade?" I asked his sleepy face. But my lazy little shadow stayed asleep in bed. Climbed another tree, an altogether different tree.
Long painting. The air plays along. With my chemicals. Drained again. . But I don't feel so sorry. And I don't feel so bad. I don't feel so sorry. And I don't feel so bad.