Soak the sun, cinnamon. What went wrong, summer song. Splinter snag, wind vein ragged. Faded trends, summer ends. . What's that, I thought I heard you say?.
What's the point in reaching you, my lonely friend?. What's the point in friends if friends cannot offend?. . I am not impressed not that, I claim to know what's best.
This has nothing to do with you, I know where I'm going Sunday. Windmill fish I'll move when the wind moves me. I'll make a roadway from the shells from my shells.