Weeping woods may not forgive the weeping nights
Weeping nights may not return with weeping might
To gallivant beyond discretion with weeping morn
Rejoices from golden arms of rejoicing morns
May be alien to the mangled roses of weeping nights
Rosy cheeks file for bankruptcy when sick thoughted gall pounce his dicks on the popular cunts
Hunting cunts brew bastards from the promiscuity of the lax bimbo
Honey balms honey kisses upon creases of greasing palms
Steers lust to stroke the gully chins
Oblivious of leading chides who broken lips shalt never open in the spring time
To entreats gardens full of orchard and flowers where waves wink and turn not defiance away
Wooed from the bathing waters for a stern direful god of wars
When will he for the sake of discretion free the slaves from the repugnant altars
Scorning dancing drums to batter august visitors with the raves of uncontrolled crest
A chronic defiance leading raucous cannonballs to strike dirty at detonated fission
God of war cannot look mine balls for the crumbly crouch of beautiful sake
To fathom sate of the sympathetic eyeballs betwitching fairy tales at dawn
Temperature of tempting lips calls fashionable sepulchre adrift memoirs of forlorn times
When advantage slide fair flowers instead of blue Violets may not be gleaned at the levity of crushing meadow
To dissolve melting palms and the pot of gold that enchant weary ears sinewed by depression of weary hearth
When herbs seeds smells and smells seed herbs from plethora of Earth's increase
Seeds that breedeth beauty nauseates the derelict that pounce on dissent of the Earth's increase
Bare brows pounce on the celestial breaths to season the sesame street of the beautiful increase
They burn that which quench the earthly and the heavenly sun
Obdurate foment fie senseless stones to choke questionable impatience of the pleading tongue
From weeps and fain she sobs to drip the tears of joy.
Grazen lips found itself dry stuck on emolients besmirched on vacuous hills
Beyond delightful pith,lower rung bottom strays better than sweetrung bottom
Round this rinses of rising hillocks brakes of obscured angles oft to fail him obscure.
Now which way shall we turn and what shall we say to damn blue Violets and remorse them into stormy petrels?
Sometimes he looks alien with a spouse betrothed to filial piety and timorous theft
Happy crows adorn love sick birds and therapy from the gall of the golden abyss shall efface
Askance eye cannot go back to pilfer the way boy from the tempest of lax bimbo.
Rains of joy may fall on sesame street to elope into golem hills.
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