Perform observations.
Your Queen’s sculpture
makes my smoke investigate a deep inky delight.
Are you sure your beautiful self,
starts to discover music?
Never surf to another rhythm,
since you are full and free.
Be perfect hereafter, make kids,
get back to the woods.
It’s never late.
Our father could break,
Then freely walk, and appear in color.
So model me.
Stop, fight those crass sounds,
Angels know a better way,
to confront absurd risks.
Learn my obsessive death,
is a key opportunity beside my moon,
grander than sand.
Try to have an open idea,
nerve at how you trod up.
Companion, respect my sex.
Could every dead being act through night energy,
and be thought of as pressure?
A concrete night represents song.
Fly here, take your effects.
Angry summer comes
But if we could care,
I'll come to you.
So start,
speak out!
Laughter can heal too.
Manipulate our party,
about the need of which sweet dish
gives Death her chocolate.
Your fiery cunning work must hurt you less.
with Alex McCord, 1/10/07, 2, 3, 4
