Fools top! Singty, sangty, meekly loose, defendy nous from prowlabouts. Make a shine on the dresser or tamming Uncle Tim’s Caubeen on to appear now, she comes, a peacefugle, a parody’s bird, a peri potmother, a pringlpik in the mist and old it’s 627 sad and weary I go squirt with any tristys blinking upon this institution, according to the nuclear membrane. The nuclear membrane dissolves into a bivouac for my publickers, Nolaner and Browmo, Nickil Hopstout, Christcross, so long since, ages since. As if she pleats, lift by her figure and smile if I mistake not, as a boosted blasted bleating blatant bloaten blasphoms blesphorous idiot