A LOVER'S BURDEN.PART 3

What a gracious pneaumatic not poofed burning clocks not in vain adrift,a garden repertoire of unfair roses,which in its hoots,bred in tangled knot.Still they thumb and greedily thumb,for a golden thumb,thumbing their ethos.Hung over obscene hours,sullen lours and ill mannered frets.Twixt crimson deified,backward violet,where shypale sworn to swear by its immortal moist,And lo,a sleeky tease so sneeky a hoick shall pay earnest to carry over this burden of burning coals and currying coals to Newscastle.over which offers from unfair tongue did crave.The autumn's vapour bathes in gravy train,being wooed as supplicated from direful goddess of war.Twains at loggerheads still bud-crumpling,than this frenzy of sepuchral birds,whose sinewy neck in every jar,mammon did crotchety assuage.When acrimonious steel,fiendish lyrics obeyed,what prisoner of conscience.Prisoner in red but primrose chain doth to their coy disdains.Grumpysm so fair and white,yet to cling to alabaster,starrying night day,o brother what seest...