The taproot alive is gambled more than suspended in green. The apple
itself pleads the amazement of bingo. The circumference of many
hypotheses turns bird by dusty cocoon. Rock the paints and totem. There
is air between cemeteries because rags are fat with comedy. It is pain that
generates the cartilage of this, the only locomotive ghost that strikes when
there is an excuse to strike. If a feather on the lap turns cedar, expect to
humor a pyramid. This noise will exempt the silence of apparition. It is
erratic to novel a spring with illusion. The imagery of luck is either
spinning or fatal. The phonograph has gone the way of the dinosaur. Close
the incense lobster by dynamite. A structural gun brooks the trigger of
omission. An absorption sidewalk hauls that compelling density on squirts
and magically surfaces in affectionate bugs. Sunlight blots invite the
garden goldfish to gape in splendor at oblivion’s horizon. Plywood, also,
gushes with a version of being. Choose your device carefully. Creosote
has conquest in it. Hectic this burn to science. Moon the simple
postulation that provides for forehead vapor. The engine has supposition
written all over it. The life of the sternum is thrilling. It takes insistence to
entertain a pronoun. A flower blooms at the jaw’s elation. A milieu sips an
address between emotive mushrooms. The diversions move an almond up.
The sexual phantom is hungry for wool. Growling sometimes solves the
flight of the collar stud. The day is symbolically fat. Elude the corners.
Wear a Pythagorean stick to stimulate the paint. Pin your gaze to the
undulations. There are tinctures of dream in the valley, and an elevator in
your impulse. Honor the suppositions. Bring plumes. Quills that smell like
consciousness.