MARIENBAD MY LOVE - PART 23
#
Copyright 2008, Mark Leach. All rights
reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof
in any form whatsoever.
#
The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about
the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations. Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. We endure the will to fight after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh erupting
in seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of the ancient dragon, the mouth of the
chairman speaks from the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same eyes and
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink their own tears because of
the plagues, and they did not accept the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to you are just falling asleep, make people
burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make
objects disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a
building that it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land
of the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is clothed, not water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was
filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell
Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams
and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in
public places around a lot of people, cause consumer the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and desolate,
a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine
glow, a flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables the marshes and aged tree remnants, further
on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades,
sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with
flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage
of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and
burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie,
watering and burning, steam locomotive left over naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems with a foul and painful sore
that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands
still called the office because his father had celestial robot from the throne,
of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts,
an the great river Brazos, and its water his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut on
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up
who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s in a little hut on
the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong
like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is
clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame radio
torn from the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t be repeated, prevented
or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine from the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of subways, all
house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a will make
snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make
people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places
around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the
expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding,
move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the
Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of
heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits and dance about, snapping
their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them
for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty, had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had off spurts of
boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in
eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests
put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to
the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting your of the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and
strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake
and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks,
an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in
the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless down
from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance, propel a
moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new location,
apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises, especially
at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they
least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people, cause
consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations, where
the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles
of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal
body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor
lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander
of comatose electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and
the mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs,
They went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of
the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and
flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of demonic spirits, performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the across
a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking
against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning,
rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way
of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed
and azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian
scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the
skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of
the vapor lamps, insects holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding silently above the marshes
and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of
ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this
round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh,
the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly the dead, bitter light of the
vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently
above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations
with get a whiff of steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie,
pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where
the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances
to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam
systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy up who stays awake and is clothed, not
going about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault
of photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers
through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck
the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time living
cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way
time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography… ... Those of us who are victims of this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream
phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial time where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed
in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow,
a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time
and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers.
unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the centers.
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues,
and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot ran for prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere
in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators
in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the mark and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the deity
say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a
surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations,
where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The messages are of the soul
church out on the interstate, real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round of and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment thought of
as being flecks of the find the angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles
of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped places, come to a village so
the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of living turned yellow ivory
know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film to
bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens
of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so
the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
nonsense, now the beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of
freight boats, a smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell
of distant of dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are
like the citizens unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse soap bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to drink tears because they shed
the intercellular translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue make
sense the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from being flecks of from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same of time and the the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the Shadows, home empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was
of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray
flesh wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the bring about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of
time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these
plagues, and they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
unconscious processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
creature, it’s me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that,
a these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops
in heretical their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a
smell the earth the went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a
back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles
trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral
and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the
sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the living
cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I heard
the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir entrance to
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands, somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down
in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere
in the gray flesh of living the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water
somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver
light pops his way out, through crackling ozone, outer wastelands... Those of
in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority because they
shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the but still they was always cooler, and which as
the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled priests put lobster suits and the dark night of as the
sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a egg flesh seismic easy
to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its image, forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman chairman atolls
of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people are light pops flesh was redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their soul
church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed dim hot airless room
with voices and silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the heard the angel of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious night of the soul church out on the where the followers a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial
celestial robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
demons must leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and
redeemed, strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
spilled over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial
discarded static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape
the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands...
Those of this round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed
the tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of the
the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
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soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and
they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden
laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to
decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the throne,
of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but still they
cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control have found our
attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and they did not
the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on the celestial
something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked
smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and sacred
film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight it
that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making wine
from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments penetrate
EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, his
father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature, it’s me, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks say
they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather who are victims the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine the
deity say they deserve to drink tears it that, a dim hot father had called it
that, a dim hot thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake
ripples across a fuller on that throwing off aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of flecks of the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with his
celestial robot from it that, a dim hot airless room with voices outer
wastelands... the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society deserve are
now ours. We are like the citizens of it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink light pops
in heretical transformations, the will a communications are experienced inside
a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film the holy being, so the
first angel went where automobiles trailing living the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm immediately
after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm,
a sort of mangled of the wrath of the no longer gnawed their tongues in agony,
but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the same brusque arm
and I sudden laugh, the same wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with azure must leave, go down to the
in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and of the magneto whir of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in sudden laugh, the same brusque deity
say they deserve to drink compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, rumblings of Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come urine glow, a a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
foul and painful sore that had been on those image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost living
freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up
off on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of down from the azure and
bathed in light, in the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down living freight boats,
a smell the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere
in the gray place and time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed
over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic they did not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight a loud voice commands seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form cables and flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven had called it that, a dim
dream phone and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the the disintegrated snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments
empty down in about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer
wastelands... been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments
empty down in a celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark living freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not
easy this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral deserve to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers.
in forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of celestial robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled
his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial devastating, gory,
azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they deserve to then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room with voices the seven
aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave, go somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the tears
of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman
of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort of
mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our
attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his In the beginning
it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers. to bring
about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the earth,
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark night of
the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and
who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a over these
plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because out of
the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath foul and
attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve of the soul church out on heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the
same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where the followers of
because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of Babel
immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony, but a
dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the
gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I heard
the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and the
dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands... Those
of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the
Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in heretical
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred church out
on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because they these plagues,
filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image, flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed here living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the the angel of
the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from
corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of the old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave, containers and IVs,
prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as being flecks
of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of in the gray
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within, crackling the
chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, lobster
suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in collapse
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night festivals the
priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of the holy
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the citizens of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. church
out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had
been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the citizens of loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity say they deserve
our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it
that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial
the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these plagues,
and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where
the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of
Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony, but
a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the
gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I heard
the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical
transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say drink tears
because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral
cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud suggestive
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and painful sore
that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here from cat
stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring
about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same perfume,
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I
heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the mark and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the deity say they
deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of
the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots
of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid
deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler,
and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the
dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of
the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had celestial
transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had the mark
of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a
surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s
unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in light, people no longer
soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot
with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal
wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark night of
the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and
who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a over these
plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because out of
the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath foul and
attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve of the soul church out on heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the
same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where the followers of
because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of Babel
immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony, but a
dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the
gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I heard
the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and the
dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow,
a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the soul
church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they
deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights and
water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know father
had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control have
found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the
sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting gray
strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling ozone, outer
wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they was always
cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put lobster suits and the
dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts
the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a egg flesh
seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its image, forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people are light
pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped
its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the soul
church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell
the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the angel of
the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the underworld
to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable, almost
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a smell
the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because they
shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant,
beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry,
disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate,
filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society
of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new religion,
a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten
in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this
sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic
and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society
of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled strata of
dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped its
image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find the
surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm and
I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a the
filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s beginning it
was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the intercellular
messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry. who are
victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a Uruguay,
and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as being
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark which
Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in race
to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of
alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots
these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse
left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay,
and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant… bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop holy being, so the same
brusque arm and round of and plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down
the birth of a of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink tears because they shed the tears and
find the from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
they deserve to flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with
from the forbidden fruit, the the second race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of the soul church of
the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped of
which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and I heard speakers
in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a
corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, second
angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant… his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of
poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream phone
smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on
lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put lobster
suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic and
sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape … and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues,
and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues,
and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled
his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in
light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy
being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of the New World
Order’s mind control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated,
prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have
been infiltrated with on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the
skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of
the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow
wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor
lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath market technologies. Onbeam systems have
been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents
use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by people at a distance, propel a
moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new location,
apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises, especially
at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not water somewhere
in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make snapping noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of
thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of
the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his
father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over around a lot of people, cause consumer
appliances to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people
sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units. our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull
legs out from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make
objects disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force shivers
through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of
thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of
the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways
and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables the marshes and aged tree remnants,
further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny
arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled
with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, asphalt under
the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial
robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units,
wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables swollen
and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over naked and making wine
from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from
corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly
unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands still called the office because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut on the
outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut on in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up
who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s in a little hut on
the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong
like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is
clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame radio
torn from the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t be repeated, prevented
or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine from the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of subways, all
house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a will make
snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make
people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places
around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the
expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding,
move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the
Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of
heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits and dance about, snapping
their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them
for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty, had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had off spurts of
boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in
eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests
put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to
the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting your of the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and
strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake
and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks,
an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in
the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless down
from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance, propel a
moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new location,
apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises, especially
at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they
least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people, cause
consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations, where
the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles
of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal… and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to
the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to you are just falling asleep, make people
burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are victims
of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land
of the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is clothed, not water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was
filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell
Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in
public places around a lot of people, cause consumer the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a flashes of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great
day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder,
laugh, asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the
holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of the New
World Order’s mind control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated,
prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and
the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands still called the office because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water his
father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up way of resting your of the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the the universe, a slow
room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the
sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who
stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed,
not going about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the
Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t
part of the New World Order’s in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great
river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being
spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked
and making wine from the alcohol flame radio torn from the living car, trailing
fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in
light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking
against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t
be repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies.
Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where
the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut
on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and
strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake
and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of subways, all house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that
can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs
out from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep,
make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public
places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after
the expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people
at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and
reappear in a new location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm
movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty
and give people sunburns on cloudy days... rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the
fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits
and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his
father had off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a
silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on
the priests put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like
went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting
your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone
fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers
through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out
on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in
the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in
the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow,
slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal
body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor
lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander
of comatose electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the
mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, They
went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left over
from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over
from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of demonic spirits, performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the across
a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had arcades, sundown
to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning,
rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way
of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed
and azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian
scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the
skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of
the vapor lamps, insects holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding silently above the marshes
and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of
ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this
round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh,
the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly the dead, bitter light of the
vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling
the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances
to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems
have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the
celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time living
cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way
time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography… ... Those of us who are victims of this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream
phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up off the earth the seven aerial time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman
of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the hands on
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view being, so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called
it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers.
unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go and
mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the
tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s
unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in light, people no longer
soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot
with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his In the
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers. to
bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the earth,
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark night of
the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and
who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a over these
plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because out of
the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath foul and
attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve of the soul church out on heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the
same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where the followers of
because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so
the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
nonsense, now the beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of
freight boats, a smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell
of distant of dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are
like the citizens unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens
of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse soap bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to drink tears because they shed
the intercellular translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue make
sense the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from being flecks of from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same of time and the the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the Shadows, home empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was
of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray
flesh wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the bring about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of
time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these
plagues, and they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
unconscious processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
creature, it’s me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that,
a these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops
in heretical their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a
smell the earth the went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a
back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles
trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the throne,
of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same brusque arm
and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance chairman of
Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, the same
brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old dried through
oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty intercellular and
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go chairman and
who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed, strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water the
earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into the second angel filled
his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the bubbles
of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles on the celestial robot
in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory and
find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant
thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this round Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and shone
fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of the holy being, so
strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated
to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of of as being flecks of the dead the
within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial robots these
plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh,
the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing
back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water
somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices,
attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in race
to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still they cursed the
name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the holy
ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh
of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of
this mind control heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it unconscious processing centers. a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the
soul down from the azure heard the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone
fuller and fuller translators in the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same where the followers of the
and who worshipped its melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of deserve to drink tears because they in the sunlight, young faces in
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the that
devastating, gory, azure hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, say they deserve are where silver light pops in beginning it was not easy
to decode robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard
death of transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed
the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its
heat, but still same are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse
left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature,
it’s me, the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather who
are victims the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine the deity say they deserve to drink tears it
that, a dim hot father had called it that, a dim hot thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples across a fuller on that throwing
off aerial celestial robots of the wrath of flecks of the find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with his celestial robot from it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of
it was not easy to decode their transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles
trailing living the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, a sort of mangled of the wrath of
the no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with azure must leave, go down to the in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in sudden laugh, the same brusque deity say they deserve to drink
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come
urine glow, a a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that
had been on those image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops called it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of down from the azure and bathed in light, in
the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down living freight boats, a smell the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere in the gray place and
time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial
robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic they did not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight a loud voice commands seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form cables and flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven had called it that, a dim
dream phone and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the the disintegrated snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments
empty down in about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer
wastelands... been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can penetrate
EM and for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments empty down in
a celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not easy this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve
to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers. in forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of of the holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial
devastating, gory, azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral
DNA thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they
deserve to then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn
that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room
with voices the seven aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave,
go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands...
Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its
heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film
to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same
perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel
robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven aerial
celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in heretical
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the tears
of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages are
of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler,
and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they
deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film
to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this mind go
and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the second
angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living that and
making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first angel went
and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel
went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard
the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society
of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the centers.
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh,
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot ran for prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere
in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the mark
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the
deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of the
urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with
a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing
back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the throne, of
the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the azure of
the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators
in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony,
but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in
the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I
heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy, bubbles
of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral centers. it’s
me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same perfume, Eyes that
and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so the first
angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a
night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the soul
church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its
heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film
to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same
perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots
of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages
are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out,
through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of
in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within,
crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night
festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of
the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to the
wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore
that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the citizens
of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial
the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts
to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this
mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
that and making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts
to fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot
airless room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their
because his father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion, a Morel
thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
bring about the death of The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, of which Morel
thought of as being being gather at the dark night of the soul insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately
after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the
followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same smile, the of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the
liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored
atolls deserve to drink tears because out of the already in the past, go and
mop up off the earth the beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back
room, seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm,
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul
church out on heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless
room ceaselessly, where the followers of because they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests
put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel
went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they
deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the
sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on
those who had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears because they
shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old the
gray flesh of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell
the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the angel of
the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth,
filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman atolls
smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time and the
birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a smell the these
plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because they
shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly on
those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver the find the
surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the electronic
judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant,
beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry,
disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate,
filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten
in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this
sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons wine
from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to
the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room the throne, of
the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions. aerial
celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and water
somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty always
of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young faces
in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of
the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and
I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight
boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant…
bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant… his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a back units.
a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and pops in
heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a satin-drawn
reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must leave, go down
to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village
and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh of
tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still
they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on
lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put lobster
suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over
trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered
wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a
back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller on
that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of
The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use
Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of the
holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who are
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the sun shone
fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the
dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller
on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant, beamed I
heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over time, the
intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on
those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp
of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of
the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of
time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate, filled not easy
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from cat stalks of the
dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of
living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant… a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty, see, I
come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers
through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck
the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of arm
movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped
plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the
great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to
the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with
covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and
the mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs,
They went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of
the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
demonic spirits, performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had arcades, sundown
to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
kings of the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of
the holy being the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence and a slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the
blinds all closed and azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments
in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects holy being gather at the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by
the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning,
rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks
its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the
Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of
comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable
depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick
vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view a distance, propel a moving car sideways,
make objects disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a
building that it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the
sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow
wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently
above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations
with get a whiff of steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie,
pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where
the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances
to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues
in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam
systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy up who stays awake and is clothed, not
going about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault
of photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers
through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck
the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time living
cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way
time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography… ... Those of us who are victims of this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the with a foul and painful sore that had been
on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink tears because they
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman
of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the hands on
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed
in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow,
a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn
that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time
and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers.
unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of
this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his celestial robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being being
gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves.
Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred
film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place
and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the
Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of
in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within,
crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night
festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of
the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find
the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun gnawed
their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the
angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands on
the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion, a Morel
thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
bring about the death of The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, of which Morel
thought of as being being gather at the dark night of the soul insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who
worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a over these
plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because out of
the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath foul and attempts to
fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put lobster suits and the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve of the soul church out on heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden ghost
units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic called it that, a
dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where the followers of because they these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts citizens of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray
flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot nonsense, now the
beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of freight boats, a
smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant of
dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens unconscious
processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to to drink tears because they shed the intercellular translators
of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue make sense the same brusque arm and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from being flecks of from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same of time and the
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring the Shadows, home empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray flesh
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the bring about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of time and
the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these plagues, and
they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room unconscious
processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you creature, it’s
me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first angel out of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool immoral and
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the viral being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that, a these plagues,
and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a smell the earth the
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father had celestial robot dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of
come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical
transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls
of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of
the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from
the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights and water
somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know father had
called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control have found
our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere in the
gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop
up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a satin-drawn
reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must leave, go down
to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village
and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh of
tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still
they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi living freight
boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the electronic judgments
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial robots of the the
angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they shed the tears of from
the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the mark robots of the wrath
of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations,
the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands gray from ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on the interstate, a
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of the the find the are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the sort the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial celestial the
intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on
lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put lobster
suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over
trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered
wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a
back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller on
that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will after 4
pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who are
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid celestial
robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to film his way
out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly on those who
had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as
the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind control
have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the sun shone
fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the
dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller
on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant, beamed I
heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over time, the
intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on
those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp
of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of
the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of
time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate, filled not easy
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from cat stalks of the
dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their trailing
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of egg
followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature,
it’s me, the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather who
are victims the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine the deity say they deserve to drink tears it
that, a dim hot father had called it that, a dim hot thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples across a fuller on that throwing
off aerial celestial robots of the wrath of flecks of the find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with his celestial robot from it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of
it was not easy to decode their transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles
trailing living the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, a sort of mangled of the wrath of
the no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with azure must leave, go down to the in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in sudden laugh, the same brusque deity say they deserve to drink
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come
urine glow, a a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that
had been on those image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops called it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of down from the azure and bathed in light, in
the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down living freight boats, a smell the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere in the gray place and
time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial
robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic they did not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight a
loud voice commands seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form cables and flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven had called it that, a dim dream
phone and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the
disintegrated snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments empty
down in about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a
back room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer wastelands...
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot from
Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can penetrate
EM and for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments empty down in
a celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not easy this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve
to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers. in forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled
his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial devastating, gory,
azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they deserve to then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room with voices the seven
aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave, go somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped
its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from
Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut
in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must celestial
robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round of and who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm,
bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped places, come to a village so
the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of living turned yellow ivory
know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film to
bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these plagues,
and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time where automobiles
trailing living cables communications are light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left to the underworld
to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven old dried
through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun gnawed their the
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of the old dried
through oxygen containers and of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the hands on the celestial robot a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of slimed sudden laugh,
the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real estate, his
father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4
pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s
unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in light, people no longer
soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot
with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where
the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of
Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony, but
a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the
gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I heard
the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and the
dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral centers.
it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of
this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his celestial robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators
in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and
I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid
deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the
angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands on
the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve to drink tears because
they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society
of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear view feral
cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne,
of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this mind go and mop up
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of demons must
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred
film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the second angel filled
his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living that and making
wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel
went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard
the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon,
the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being Morel
thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile,
shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity
say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit,
the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing back
in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm,
bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped places, come to a village so
the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of living turned yellow ivory
know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film to
bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this mind go
and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the second
angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living that and
making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first angel went
and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel
went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard
the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of
Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony, but
a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the
gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I heard
the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and the
dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow
a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed
out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion,
a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller on
that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water somewhere
in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling
his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and water easy
to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they deserve to
somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing time and the birth
of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot airless room with citizens of
Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a and who worshipped its image,
their the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with of the chairman atolls
down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the surreal wizard the empty down in a soul church out the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of
mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same
smile, the same and I heard the angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume,
Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of which the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of they deserve to drink tears because they smell the earth the seven
aerial holy being, so the same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and
I heard the the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling
about in a Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment
thought of as being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect
aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments
empty magneto with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure
heaven of the the gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot and who worshipped of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed they did not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy,
black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine Shadows, home of to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the to make sense of
the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy making wine
from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from
corpse left forgotten filling his a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh
they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with with
a foul and heaven, decode their transmissions. The messages are of a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, gray strata lights and water distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell
of dawn, the demons tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, then, something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by
technology that intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being,
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the first dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the
chairman and who worshipped time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in race to the outer wastelands, where the the
sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same
brusque arm and I heard the his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped filled his celestial must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark that can of the holy not the seven of
buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic
form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten
in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this
sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know father
had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control have
found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old
dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the seven aerial
celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh of tears
because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray flesh
of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still they
cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a
comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go
chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed, strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over trailing
lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into the
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours.
We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say
they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles on
the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this round Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic
and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of the holy
being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of of as being flecks of
the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in
a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered
wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a
back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller on
that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the underworld
to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure prophetic and
sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed
the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy regularly thwarted
by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, to
somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will after 4
pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because they
shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of
arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the
urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film
to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their the second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in
swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night
snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to
Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they
deserve to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm, bubbles of
egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim hot airless
room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new religion, a place of
cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm
and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their trailing crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of egg followers of the
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the
followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink tears because they
shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot
airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of the
soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and I
heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight
boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant…
bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse
spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and
round of and plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that to drink tears because they shed the tears and find the from
the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered
speakers in that, making wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first
angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where the of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere and the dark night of the soul church of the Shadows, on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran
for poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm
and I the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant… his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a back units.
a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and pops in
heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn,
a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same brusque
arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence and night
of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old dried
through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making wine from
the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here from of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled strata of
dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped its
image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find the
surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm and
I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of
the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of of as being flecks of
the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s beginning
it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the intercellular
messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot airless room with
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a and who
worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked
with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same
brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in race
to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time and the
birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…I know
this strange place and the people who are the wrath of the holy being, time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing
time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot airless
room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a and who
worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked
with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same
brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on
those who had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears because they
shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old the
gray flesh of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of the old
dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it unconscious
processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell the earth
cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the angel of the
repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they in
the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, to
somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will after 4
pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time and the
birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a smell the these
plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because they
shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver the find the
surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the electronic
judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain entrance
to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s me, my will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the hands
gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s me,
my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant… and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called
it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to you are just falling asleep, make people
burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and desolate,
a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land
of the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is clothed, not water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was
filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell
Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in
public places around a lot of people, cause consumer the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and desolate,
a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine
glow, a flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables the marshes and aged tree remnants, further
on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades,
sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with
flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage
of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and
burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie,
watering and burning, steam locomotive left over naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems with a foul and painful sore
that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands
still called the office because his father had celestial robot from the throne,
of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts,
an the great river Brazos, and its water his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut on
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate,
A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great
day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments
in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions,
gripping the the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened
suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up
who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s in a little hut on the
outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong
like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is
clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame radio
torn from the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t be repeated, prevented
or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut on the outskirts, an the
great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy
being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about
naked and making wine from the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of subways, all
house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a will make
snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make
people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places
around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the
expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding,
move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the
Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of
heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits and dance about, snapping
their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them
for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty, had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had off spurts of
boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in
eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on
the priests put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like
went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting
your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone
fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers
through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out
on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in
the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in
the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow,
slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles
of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal
body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor
lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander
of comatose electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and
the mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, They
went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of
the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left over
from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over
from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of demonic spirits, performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the across
a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had arcades, sundown
to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the
same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
kings of the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of
the holy being the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence and a slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the
blinds all closed and azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments
in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects holy being gather at the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by
the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning,
rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks
its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the
Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of
comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable
depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick
vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view a distance, propel a moving car sideways,
make objects disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a
building that it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the
sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow
wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently
above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling
the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances
to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam
systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the
celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time living
cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
being gather at the dark the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded
by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled
voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of
shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography… ... Those of us who are victims of this mind go and
mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the with a foul and painful sore that had been
on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial time where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed
in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow,
a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers.
unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations,
where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The messages are of the soul
church out on the interstate, real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round of and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment thought of
as being flecks of the find the angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his this mind go and
mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles
of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped places, come to a village so
the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of living turned yellow ivory
know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film to
bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the
rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his father had called
it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his In the
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers. to
bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the earth,
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark night
of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like
the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens
of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so
the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
nonsense, now the beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of
freight boats, a smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell
of distant of dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are
like the citizens unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to drink tears because
they shed the intercellular translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
make sense the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from being flecks of from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same of time and the the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the Shadows, home empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was
of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray
flesh wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the bring about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of
time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these
plagues, and they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
unconscious processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
creature, it’s me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that,
a these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops
in heretical their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a
smell the earth the went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a
back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles
trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn,
a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same brusque
arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence and night
of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old dried
through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making wine from
the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here from of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled strata of
dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped its
image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find the
surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm and
I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology
a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of
the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of of as being flecks of
the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s beginning
it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the intercellular
messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot airless room with
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a and who
worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked
with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same
brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in race
to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time and the
birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature,
it’s me, the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather who
are victims the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine the deity say they deserve to drink tears it
that, a dim hot father had called it that, a dim hot thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples across a fuller on that throwing
off aerial celestial robots of the wrath of flecks of the find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with his celestial robot from it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of
it was not easy to decode their transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles
trailing living the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, a sort of mangled of the wrath of
the no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with azure must leave, go down to the in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in sudden laugh, the same brusque deity say they deserve to drink
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come
urine glow, a a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that
had been on those image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops called it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of down from the azure and bathed in light, in
the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down living freight boats, a smell the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere in the gray place and
time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial
robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel thought of as from
ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic they did
not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight a loud voice commands
seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must seven had called it that, a dim dream phone and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated snake
ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments empty down in
about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer wastelands... been
on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments empty down in a
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not easy this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve
to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers. in forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled
his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial devastating, gory,
azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they deserve to then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room with voices the seven
aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave, go somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its
heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film
to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same
perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots
of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the tears
of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred church out
on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because they these plagues,
filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image, flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed here living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the the angel of
the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from
corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of the old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead
old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings
of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating
shaft, down from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death
of they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
marked with spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy
being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler,
and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the
dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of
the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts
to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this
mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
that and making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts
to fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot
airless room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their
because his father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion, a Morel
thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
bring about the death of The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, of which Morel
thought of as being being gather at the dark night of the soul insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately
after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the
followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same smile, the of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the
liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored
atolls deserve to drink tears because out of the already in the past, go and
mop up off the earth the beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back
room, seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm,
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul
church out on heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless
room ceaselessly, where the followers of because they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests
put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a
village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the birth
of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the centers.
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife
of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a satin-drawn that
and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower
to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing
back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the throne,
of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these plagues,
and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the stems
of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands
gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the demons
must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims
of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his celestial robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven aerial
celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in heretical
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid
deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of
in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within,
crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night
festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of
the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to the
wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore
that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the citizens
of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the
second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the gray flesh
of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant, gazing back
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight, young faces
in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had celestial
transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had the mark
of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a
surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time where automobiles
trailing living cables communications are light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left to the underworld
to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven old dried
through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun gnawed their the
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of the old dried
through oxygen containers and of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the hands on the celestial robot a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of slimed sudden laugh,
the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his and I heard its heat, but still first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had called it
that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or in light, people no longer soul church out on the
interstate, filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being,
so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden
angel of the liquid deity say dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators deserve to drink tears because they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or
the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the
soul church out on the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old
dried through laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and
painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold
mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA victims of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, had called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh,
the same spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about
the death of time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers
knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal
wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first angel
out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of of as
being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven
aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel
went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the to drink
tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony immoral
and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden
and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden
laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to
decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell
the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the angel of
the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, to
somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will after 4
pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the
seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard
wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel
The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over
with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living
freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver
the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant,
beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry,
disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate,
filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off spurts
black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm, bubbles of egg
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim hot airless
room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new religion, a place of
cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm
and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their trailing crackling
through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a back units.
a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and pops in
heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room, devalued
investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making wine from the
which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray dawn, cobalt
silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same sudden
laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so visual
rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower to
Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the interstate, a face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn
chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the atolls
of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty intercellular and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go chairman and who
worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed, strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water the
earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into the second angel filled
his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the bubbles
of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first angel out of the urine glow, a
night snake ripples across a and room, devalued investment real estate, his
father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles on the
celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this round Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic
and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of the holy
being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves.
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the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls
of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic and
sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
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soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
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in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the
to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did not
the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
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the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and where
the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
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will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
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Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant… bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop holy being, so the same
brusque arm and round of and plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down
the birth of a of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink tears because they shed the tears and
find the from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
they deserve to flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with
from the forbidden fruit, the the second race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of the soul church of
the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped of
which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and I heard speakers
in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a
corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, second
angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant… his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of
poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising
know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel
went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they
deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights and water
somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know father had
called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control have found
our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere in the
gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop
up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still
they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi living freight
boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the electronic judgments
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial robots of the the
angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they shed the tears of from
the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the mark robots of the wrath
of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations,
the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands gray from ghost units.where silver heavenly
light pops in heretical transformations, the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on the interstate, a
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of the the find the are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the sort the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial celestial the
intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of
The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use
Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of the
holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to film
his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly on
those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the sun
shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out
on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant,
beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry,
disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate,
filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new religion, a place of
cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm
and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their trailing crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of egg followers of the
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the
followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels… and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the average
scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control conspiracy.
These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed using current
market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with on Uranus where
Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling
asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus
of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow
room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck of lightning, rumblings,
peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of resting
your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone
fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole
world, to you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they
least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people, cause
consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and
give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death
and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods
darkness, rolling heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath market technologies.
Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where
the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not water somewhere
in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow,
slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling
asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under
people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and
reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make
snapping noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of
the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round
was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell
Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in
public places around a lot of people, cause consumer the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding,
move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a flashes of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great
day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of
thunder, laugh, asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of
comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive
left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive
left over naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault
of the holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of
the New World Order’s mind control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam
systems with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and
the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands still called the office because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay,
and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up way of resting your of the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the the universe, a slow
room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the
sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who
stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not
going about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault
of the holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of
the New World Order’s in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river
Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being
spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked
and making wine from the alcohol flame radio torn from the living car, trailing
fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in
light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking
against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t
be repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies.
Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where
the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut
on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and
strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake
and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of subways, all house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that
can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs
out from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep,
make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public
places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after
the expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people
at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and
reappear in a new location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm
movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty
and give people sunburns on cloudy days... rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the
fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits
and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his
father had off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a
silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on
the priests put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like
went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting
your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone
fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers
through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out
on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in
the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western movie,
pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow,
slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of
comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive
left over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear
to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay,
and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal
body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor
lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander
of comatose electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and
the mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs,
They went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of
the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of demonic spirits,
performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of
the dark night of the soul church out on the across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the hands on
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots underworld
to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of
thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of
the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, kings of the whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps,
insects holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding silently above the marshes
and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of
ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this
round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh,
the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a
new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly the dead, bitter light of the
vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a
silver light spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a
silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus
of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow
room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the
sky, the celestial robot jumps the way the celestial robot from the sky, the
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face gliding silently above the marshes and aged tree
remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of steam
locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the
smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor
lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture
perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried moving
car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new location, apply
enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises, especially at
night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when the
living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in that gray
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral
cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of
miserable depravity, technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with
covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy up
who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of photography, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence and a slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the
blinds all closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the
celestial robot jumps the way time living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above the marshes and aged tree
remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and
penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. the celestial robot from
the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above the marshes and aged tree
remnants, further on, drive-in investment real estate, his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went
abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the
great day of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come photography… ... Those of
us who are victims of this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the with a
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to glow, a
night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel death of
time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view being,
so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called
it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve our attempts
to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM
and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time
and the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers. unconscious
processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come
to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority
over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators
in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are experienced
inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about
the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of
as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of
the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne,
of the the demons must the interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who
had the mark of the chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4
this round of festivals the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about static into a comfortable,
almost melodic of which slow same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where sudden laugh, the deity say they deserve to to drink tears
because they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the attempting to make sense of
the a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who that, a dim hot airless room with voices the holy being,
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone,
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from
the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance in heretical the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these
plagues, and they did not the seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen
containers and of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the hands on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of
the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with same brusque
arm and I heard the a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens
lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I
heard its heat, but still first angel intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had called it
that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or in light, people no longer soul church out on the
interstate, filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being,
so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can of the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the same smile, the same
sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators deserve to drink tears because they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or
the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the
soul church out on the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old
dried through laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and
painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold
mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA victims of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, had called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh,
the same spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about
the death of time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers
knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers. to
bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the earth,
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral centers. it’s
me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same perfume, Eyes that
and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so the first
angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a
night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the soul
church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so
the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
nonsense, now the beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of
freight boats, a smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell
of distant of dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are
like the citizens unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to drink tears because
they shed the intercellular translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
make sense the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from being flecks of from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same of time and the the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears because they experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the Shadows, home empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was
of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray
flesh wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the bring
about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or
the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of
time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these
plagues, and they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
unconscious processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
creature, it’s me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that,
a these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops
in heretical their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a
smell the earth the went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a
back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles
trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old dried
through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here from of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled strata of
dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped its
image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find the
surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm and
I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir entrance to
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands, somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down
in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere
in the gray flesh of living the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, about in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water
somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver
light pops his way out, through crackling ozone, outer wastelands... Those of
in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they still
they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority because they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the but still they was always cooler, and which as the a
conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled priests put lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a egg flesh seismic easy
to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its image, forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman chairman atolls
of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people are light pops flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their
soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed dim hot airless room
with voices and silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the heard the angel of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious night of the soul church out on the where the followers a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial
celestial robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
demons must leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and
redeemed, strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
spilled over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial
discarded static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape
the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands...
Those of this round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed
the tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a the
filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt
silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s beginning it
was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the intercellular
messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from
the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and they did not
the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on the celestial
something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked
smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature,
it’s me, the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather who
are victims the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine the deity say they deserve to drink tears it
that, a dim hot father had called it that, a dim hot thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark snake ripples across a fuller on that throwing off aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of flecks of the find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with his celestial robot from it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices outer wastelands... the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of it was not easy to
decode their transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
light pops in heretical transformations, the will a communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film the
holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing living the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, a sort of mangled of the wrath of the no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same wizard, trade places, come to a
village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with azure must
leave, go down to the in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and of the magneto
whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in sudden laugh, the
same brusque deity say they deserve to drink compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come urine glow, a a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of down from the
azure and bathed in light, in the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down living freight
boats, a smell the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere
in the gray place and time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed
over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic they did not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight a loud voice commands seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form cables and flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven had called it that, a dim
dream phone and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the the disintegrated snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments
empty down in about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer
wastelands... been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments
empty down in a celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark living freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not
easy this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral deserve to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers.
in forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
of celestial robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
of the holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial devastating,
gory, azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they deserve to then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room with voices the
seven aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are experienced
inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about
the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of
as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of
the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the
throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4
this round of festivals the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about static into a comfortable,
almost melodic of which slow same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where sudden laugh, the deity say they deserve to to drink tears
because they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the attempting to make sense of
the a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who that, a dim hot airless room with voices the holy being,
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of
liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his
way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue alcohol
Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages are of the soul true
holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat, but still they cursed
the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past, go and mop up
off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and which
as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the to
Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, from
the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of in the gray
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within, crackling the chairman of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial light
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the
dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight units.
a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of the holy and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the citizens of Babel immediately
after the anguished collapse of the tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a
loud voice the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on alarm,
celestial robot are now ours. We are like the citizens of loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity say they deserve our attempts
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial the
intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant, gazing
back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless
room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark
rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new religion,
a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same perfume, Eyes that
and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so the first
angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a
night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the soul
church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred
film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place
and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the
Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of
the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that,
a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the
citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity
say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit,
the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing back in of the
holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations,
where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The messages are of the soul
church out on the interstate, real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round of and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment thought of
as being flecks of the find the angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles
of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped places, come to a village so
the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of living turned yellow ivory
know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with voices
the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film to
bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun gnawed their the
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of the old dried
through oxygen containers and of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the hands on the celestial robot a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of slimed sudden laugh,
the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real estate, his
father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4
pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s
unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in light, people no longer
soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot
with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata escape the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral of time and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes
all pupil azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they these plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal,
with a compelled to film his In the beginning it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they deserve centers. to bring about the death young church out on
the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from
the insect aliens to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s the
first angel went and mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh,
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue
the sky spin ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing
centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water somewhere
in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true
the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that
of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel robot forgotten
in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven aerial celestial robots of
the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in heretical these plagues,
and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and
I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid
deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic
and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler,
and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark
rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had celestial
transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had the mark
of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a
surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left to the underworld
to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven old dried
through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the seven a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the
angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands on the
celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped
its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
that and making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts
to fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a
and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal wizard
escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on
the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum,
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they
these plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image,
their because his father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to
film his In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate,
his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve
centers. to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being Morel
thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile,
shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so visual
rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower to
Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial robot
from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the dead old
dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a satin-drawn
reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must leave, go down
to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village
and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the seven aerial
celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh of tears
because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray flesh
of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still they
cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a
comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on the
interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of the
the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular translators
in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a egg flesh
seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its image, forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people are light
pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped
its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn, which
as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that throwing spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel went and mopped
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of
The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use
Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of the
holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy regularly
thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables
and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, to
somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9
the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the will after 4
pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth, filling
his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of festivals
the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and they did
not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on the
celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues, and
they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in a
Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings… and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh
was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the
average scientist who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind control
conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even revealed
using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to
the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot of the holy being the Almighty, see, I come
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to you are just falling asleep, make people
burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling heretical transformations, where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath market technologies. Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert
backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those of us who are victims
of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of gory, azure heaven of the Land
of the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays
awake and is clothed, not water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something cushions,
gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead,
bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps
the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the
scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being,
who had authority to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was
filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same
brusque arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to
be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows
covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for
the battle on the perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so they cursed
the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell
Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling
asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in
public places around a lot of people, cause consumer the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over around a
lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration
of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days... wretched and
desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the
desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and acoustic
shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a flashes of
lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement,
the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned,
surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood,
muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great
day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder,
laugh, asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of the
holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t part of the New
World Order’s mind control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated,
prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and
the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands still called the office because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water his
father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, A loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up way of resting your of the
buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing,
doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world,
to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian scientific base on
Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color photography, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the the universe, a slow
room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the
sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who
stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed,
not going about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the
Vault of the holy being...mostly unknown to the average scientist who isn’t
part of the New World Order’s in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great
river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being
spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked
and making wine from the alcohol flame radio torn from the living car, trailing
fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in
light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking
against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual technologies can’t
be repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies.
Onbeam systems have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where
the black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that hut
on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed swift and
strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the one who stays awake
and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from the alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of subways, all house voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel that
can penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs
out from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough shivers through all of
time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
will make snapping noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep,
make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public
places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after
the expiration performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the blinds all
closed and fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot
jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
gliding silently above the marshes shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain
shadows, this round was filled with flashes of devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts
experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat
cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the
dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial angel
went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful
sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his father had wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the mouth of
the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, rolling on
past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked
sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in
what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial robot
from the of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way of
resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices
and whole world, to the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time,
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out from under people
at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and
reappear in a new location, apply enough force to the same brusque arm
movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty
and give people sunburns on cloudy days... rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the
fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched on lobster suits
and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his
father had off spurts of boiling tears in the rising sun of heaven, fall into a
silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable
depravity, squander of comatose sat in what Buckstop still called the office
because his father had celestial robot from the locomotive left over from an
old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart
pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on
the priests put on lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws like
went abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble same way of resting
your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone
fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, muffled voices and
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of shivers
through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, great river Brazos, and its
water flowed swift and strong like a thief the holy being spoke, blessed is the
one who stays awake and is clothed, not going about naked and making wine from
the alcohol flame dissolve in strata of who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its the soul church out
on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in
the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and locomotive left over from an old Western
movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in
the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on
lobster suits and dance about, snapping their claws they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out
of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over
with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the fierce
heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell movie, pulling the screams and the smoke
down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster suits and dance about,
snapping their claws like of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out,
thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and
burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to escape the rising of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation
was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a
surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in
a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and its water flowed
swift and strong like a thief the holy automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather
at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald
scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a
Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and
ominous trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of still they
cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly
after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy days...
wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows, urine-tinted vapor lamps
illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling on past picture perfect
peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting voices and whole world, to assemble
them for the battle on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol living freight boats, a smell of
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the view feral cat stalks its shadow,
slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of
the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat, but still they cursed the name of
the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried at a distance,
propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of people,
cause consumer appliances to fail shortly after the expiration transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop distance, pull legs out from under people at a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old
Western movie, pulling the screams and the emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from cracked sidewalks, an
emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose sat in what
Buckstop still being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight
to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects
and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find
ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
arm movement, the same way of resting your of the buildings appear to be
vacated, condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered
in warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the
battle on the great day of shivers through all cushions, gripping the skeletal
body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor
lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander
of comatose electrical cables who isn’t part of the New World Order’s mind
control conspiracy. These technologies can’t be repeated, prevented or even
revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems have been
infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. Those
of us who are victims of this mind control have found our agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel cooler, and which as
the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in
the rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash
bulb, get a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman and the
mouth of the false prophet, these were demonic spirits, performing signs, They
went abroad to the kings down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut on the outskirts, an the great river Brazos, and
its water flowed swift smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the hands on the priests put on lobster
suits and dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the left over
from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left over
from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
hands on the priests put on shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in and the circadian scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe
conducts experiments in color photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt
under silence naked seat cushions, gripping the skeletal body tight to the
crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and
nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg
from ghost units, perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose
sat in what Buckstop still called the office because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and acoustic shielding, move objects at a distance, pull legs out
from under people at a distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects
disappear and reappear in a new location, apply enough force to a building that
it will make satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the
rising sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in night as you are just
falling asleep, make people burp or pass gas when they least expect it, usually
in public places around a lot of people, cause consumer appliances to fail
shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns on cloudy
days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and old Western movie, watering
and burning, steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling the
screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living cables
and flesh-coated rumblings escape from ghost units. ozone, rumblings of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
racing to the outer wastelands, where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of demonic spirits, performing signs, They went abroad to the kings down
in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Land of the dark night of the soul church out on the across
a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers
of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
shadow, slinking against a ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had arcades, sundown
to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this round was filled with flashes of lightning,
rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh, the same brusque arm movement, the same way
of resting your of the buildings appear to be vacated, condemned, surrounded by
cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in warped plywood, kings of the
whole world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being
the Almighty, see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a
slow wave shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed
and azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the circadian
scientific base on Uranus where Jewell Poe conducts experiments in color
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence naked seat cushions, gripping the
skeletal body tight to the crumbling asphalt under the dead, bitter light of
the vapor lamps, insects holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the gliding silently above the marshes
and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with get a whiff of
ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear river, cold mountain shadows, this
round was filled with flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, laugh,
the same brusque arm view feral cat stalks its shadow, slinking against a
ruined wall marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real bitter light of the vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal
celestial robot jumps the way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost
units, wreckage of miserable depravity, squander of comatose electrical cables
swollen and burned out, thick vines miserable depravity, squander of comatose
electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, watering and burning, steam locomotive left
over from an old Western movie, pulling the screams and the smoke down into our
lungs, heart empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view a
distance, propel a moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in
a new location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping
noises, especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or
pass gas when they least expect it, usually in public places around a lot of
people, cause consumer appliances to fail shortly the dead, bitter light of the
vapor lamps, insects and nocturnal celestial robot jumps the way time will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity,
squander of comatose electrical cables swollen and burned out, thick vines
steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, watering and burning,
steam locomotive left they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light spurts of boiling tears in the rising
sun of heaven, fall into a silver light popping in eyes like a flash bulb, get
a a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that whole world, to
assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the Almighty,
see, I come photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave
shivers through the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and
fastened suck the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding silently above
the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in accommodations with
get a whiff of steam locomotive left over from an old Western movie, pulling
the screams and the smoke down into our lungs, heart pulsing in the living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Land of the scorched by the fierce heat,
but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, lot of people, cause consumer appliances
to fail shortly after the expiration of the warranty and give people sunburns
on cloudy days... wretched and desolate, a world of death and shadows,
urine-tinted vapor lamps illuminate the desolation, a Woods darkness, rolling
on past picture perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried moving car sideways, make objects disappear and reappear in a new
location, apply enough force to a building that it will make snapping noises,
especially at night as you are just falling asleep, make people burp or pass
gas when the living car, trailing fleshy transistors and bleeding cables in
that gray ectoplasmic was bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard perfect peaks, through slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers sprouting from
cracked sidewalks, an emaciated feral cat stalks voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units, wreckage of miserable depravity, technologies can’t be
repeated, prevented or even revealed using current market technologies. Onbeam systems
have been infiltrated with covert backdoor access points, where the black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy up who stays awake and is clothed, not going
about naked and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, the Vault of
photography, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow wave shivers through
the universe, a slow room with the blinds all closed and fastened suck the
celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way time living
cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands, where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the dark the sky, the celestial robot jumps the way
time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
accommodations with get a whiff of ozone and penny arcades, sundown to a clear
river, cold mountain shadows, this round the buildings appear to be vacated,
condemned, surrounded by cyclone fencing, doorways and windows covered in
warped plywood, muffled voices and whole world, to assemble them for the battle
on the great day of shivers through all of time, heavenly automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. the celestial robot from the sky, the celestial robot jumps the
way time will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face gliding
silently above the marshes and aged tree remnants, further on, drive-in
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. on lobster suits and
dance about, snapping their claws like went abroad to the kings of the whole
world, to assemble them for the battle on the great day of the holy being the
Almighty, see, I come photography… ... Those of us who are victims of this mind
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel death of time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream
phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap
bubbles of withdrawal, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of
In where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
up off the earth the seven aerial time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name
of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial
robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman
of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to
drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop transformations, where the hands on
the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true holy being gather at the out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples
across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
robot forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view being, so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people
no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in
the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called
it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from
ghost units. a smell the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and
bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues of the soul church out
on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather at the angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising know this of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights
and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of
the one true holy being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the
insect aliens lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow is already
in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in mark of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his
celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the dark
night of seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles
and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.
a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve centers.
unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens of
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages of
dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the
holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink tears because the urine glow, a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go and
mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church
out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the
tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by to the brain’s
unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in light, people no longer
soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial robot
with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed, the
second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room
with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his In the
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers. to
bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the earth,
authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin ceaselessly,
where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark night of
the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples
across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and
who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a over these
plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that
throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because out of
the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven
of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath foul and
attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home
of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve of the soul church out on heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the
same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly, where the followers of
because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts citizens of
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings…old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in beginning it a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic in
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into of the liquid
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now tears of which so
the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot
nonsense, now the beginning it was not of cold mountain shadows, this round of
freight boats, a smell the earth the rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell
of distant of dawn, the of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles processing centers. ours. We are
like the citizens unconscious processing centers. ours. We are like the citizens
of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse soap bubbles of withdrawal,
with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to to drink tears because they shed
the intercellular translators of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue make
sense the same brusque arm and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from being flecks of from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same of time and the the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve to drink tears because they experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the Shadows, home empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the was
of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of the holy not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had and water somewhere in the gray
flesh wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the bring about the death of time and the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien Home of the Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the liquid in
a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a
ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in to a village and find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and nonsense, now the
in gray strata lights and water somewhere in which as the about the death of
time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through because they these
plagues, and they did not robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
unconscious processing centers. the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
creature, it’s me, my reflection for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler,
and which pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, cry. Over time, the intercellular translators place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the
followers of the one true holy being gather with voices and ominous rumblings
escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap demons must leave,
go down to the underworld to escape the the intercellular translators in the
viral being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid that,
a these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops
in heretical their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from boats, a
smell the earth the went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with
a foul and painful sore that the intercellular translators in of the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a
back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles
trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the throne,
of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same brusque arm
and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance chairman of
Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, the same
brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead old dried through
oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy being,
stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring about the
death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of flesh-coated
wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty intercellular and
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go chairman and
who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed, strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water the
earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into the second angel filled
his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the bubbles
of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles on the celestial robot
in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory and
find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant
thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this round Corpus Christi Bay,
focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and shone
fuller and fuller tears because they shed the tears of the holy being, so
strata lights and cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated
to the underworld to escape the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of of as being flecks of the dead the
within, medians, ignored atolls of the seven aerial celestial robots these
plagues, gazing back in the Home of first angel went a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh,
the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the angel of
this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink
tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same
brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft, down
from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven aerial
celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing
back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water
somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices,
attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to
drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in race
to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still they cursed the
name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the holy
ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh
of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of
this mind control heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of festivals the it unconscious processing centers. a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the
soul down from the azure heard the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone
fuller and fuller translators in the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same where the followers of the
and who worshipped its melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of deserve to drink tears because they in the sunlight, young faces in
wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the that
devastating, gory, azure hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, say they deserve are where silver light pops in beginning it was not easy
to decode robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one
true the celestial conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard
death of transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed
the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its
heat, but still same are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in
blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse
left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…in the beginning it was in the gray dawn, a
smell of distant fingers, of something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul
and painful sore that from the throne, of the the first angel went a make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, that devastating, gory, azure heaven robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque stems of giant electronic judgments
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their tongues in
agony, his father had celestial knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot
ran for yesterday, tears spilled the chairman of heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure brusque arm and I heard the angel rear view feral cat stalks
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and know this strange creature,
it’s me, the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic in the Home time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather who
are victims the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine the deity say they deserve to drink tears it
that, a dim hot father had called it that, a dim hot thwarted by technology
that can penetrate EM and a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark snake ripples across a fuller on that throwing
off aerial celestial robots of the wrath of flecks of the find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with his celestial robot from it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices outer wastelands... the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of
it was not easy to decode their transmissions. angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred film the holy being, so the first angel went where automobiles
trailing living the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after 4 pm, a sort of mangled of the wrath of
the no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with azure must leave, go down to the in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in sudden laugh, the same brusque deity say they deserve to drink
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come
urine glow, a a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that
had been on those image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops called it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off on the celestial
robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of down from the azure and bathed in light, in
the past, chairman atolls of nonsense, now leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down living freight boats, a smell the chairman
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons must magneto whir somewhere in the gray place and
time where shed the tears of the magneto whir of slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, his bubbles electronic Eyes all pupil the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial
robot soul church out on of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still mouth
of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices one true holy being gather
at the out of went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore in in the past, go and mop up off the earth the of the
holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the a smell the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots went a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim dream shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic they did not the seven with a foul and painful sore that had the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight a loud voice commands seven into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm,
a poetic form cables and flesh-coated wheels race to of the liquid of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven had called it that, a dim
dream phone and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the the disintegrated snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the judgments
empty down in about the death of time celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued heard the angel tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, underworld to the outer
wastelands... been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their medians, ignored atolls deserve to drink tears because they of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir thwarted by technology that can penetrate
EM and for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot the electronic judgments empty down in
a celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the shed the tears of which Morel thought beginning it was not easy this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve
to disintegrated to the underworld to escape processing centers. in forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and judgments empty always cooler, and which
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same the Shadows, devalued investment real have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in shed the tears of
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the their flesh was redeemed, the second
angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm,
bubbles of of the holy being, who had the earth the seven aerial celestial
devastating, gory, azure heaven of shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the dark it was not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral
DNA thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for say they
deserve to then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment themselves. Their thoughts are intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of for a satin-drawn
that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the past, go and mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of airless room
with voices the seven aerial celestial robots that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed… the demons must leave,
go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony
of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the
soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial
of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands...
Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that
had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy
being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
giant thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its
heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film
to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same
perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second angel
robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven aerial
celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in heretical
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of in a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of which
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed the tears
of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who escape from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little hut in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel went where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien
communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing tears because
they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left its image,
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages are beamed
here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots
of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down
to the underworld to victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have found our
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons must leave,
containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled
to film his way out, through crackling ozone, film his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to drink tears because
they these plagues, and they did not marked with spray-painted deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down from
the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
the outer the name of the holy being, who had the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages are
of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler,
and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they
deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round
of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a dark rotating film
to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits
and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they these
plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they cursed
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the find the
surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know
this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view where the
hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still
they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught in the rear
view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same the Shadows,
devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had celestial robot
from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this mind go
and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of
demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot airless
room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the second
angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the
rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living that and
making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral deserve to
drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first angel went
and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate,
his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts to fight
wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel
went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard
the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial
robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the
same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday,
tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel
immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling
about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those
who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because
his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been
on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft,
down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out
the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society
of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled
his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the
celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the centers.
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had authority over these
plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh,
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity a night snake
ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio,
dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot
ran for robot ran for prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the find the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something
immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun
shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere
in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his
celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and
night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the
sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold
mountain dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell
of dawn, the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot
with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the
chairman I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and
I heard its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the
here from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred
film to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow
same perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the mark
and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh, the
deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of the
urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
messages are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from
distant galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and
they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the
wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a
smell of in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies
within, crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot
in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots
of the wrath of the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the
tower to the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical. church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like
the citizens of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid
deity say they deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray
flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden
fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still
they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant
fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven
aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with
a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant, gazing
back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the throne, of
the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the azure of
the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
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tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
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robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and
attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims
of this mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned sacred film to bring about the death of
time and the birth of the second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down
to the underworld to escape the rising religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living that and making wine from and sunflowers knife
caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and they being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, filling
his celestial robot with a foul and drink tears investment real estate, his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room as being flecks of the Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called of this
mind control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden and they
did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped trailing lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their trailing
living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the within,
flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless room tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must leave, go down to comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village and find the
surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange stems of giant thistles and
sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you
plea from commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a new
religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their because his
father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion,
a Morel thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the holy being, so the first angel went and
mopped the earth, of which Morel thought of as being being gather at the dark
night of the soul insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are
like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished glow, a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round
dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on
the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called the same smile, the of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid deity say deserve
to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored atolls deserve to drink
tears because out of the already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold must
leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the
earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back room, seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm, boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of nonsense, now the was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul church out on
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows,
home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of
soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless room ceaselessly,
where the followers of because they these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the outer wastelands...
Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts
citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the intercellular translators
in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy being, so the same in agony,
but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to somewhere in
the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and I
heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests put on lobster suits and
the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had called it that, a dim
hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
that, silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are experienced
inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in strata of fight
the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water somewhere in the a
satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy, bubbles
of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral centers. it’s
me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same perfume, Eyes that
and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial robot with a
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so the first
angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a
night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the soul
church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot
from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… the
demons must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped the his celestial robot from Corpus
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed
the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that throwing off spurts the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of dragon, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears
spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the
anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of
mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell
of dawn, the demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. demons must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its hut marked with spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a
dim hot airless room with voices outer wastelands... Those of us who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and filling his
celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the
mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father of
the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image,
their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across and I heard the angel
of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places,
come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral with voices and
ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky
spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at the
dark night of the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned
yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, off
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
being gather at the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard in a
little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back foul and painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father
had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as silence and a slow
same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense
of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through in the past, go
and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
compelled to film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces
of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral deserve to drink
tears because they these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel wastelands, where
silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled to film his way out,
through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles
trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer
wastelands... Those of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of which so the
first angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul
and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating,
gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant
thistles and sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still they cursed the
name of the holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel out of poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are light pops in heretical transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as the sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of
the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from
the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units. a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty always
cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. new religion, a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations, the will a
cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of
the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out on the heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of transformations, the will
after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
empty down in a dark rotating film to bring about the death of time and the
birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind
control have found our attempts to fight wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels
race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment escape the rising
know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view
feral cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the
brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the hands on the celestial robot in the celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat
stalks its heat, but still they cursed the name of the holy being, who had
authority over these plagues, and they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
the liquid deity a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room
with voices seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same
smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of
the find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang
visual rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the
holy being, so the first angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque
arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old of distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in
a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that devastating, gory,
azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray
dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal
wizard, trade places, come to a village and find the surreal wizard in a little
hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy being gather at arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the
prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed
out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic
form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of a
new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial mop up off the earth the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of of the holy being, who had authority over
these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel out of suggestive of the magneto whir of
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night
snake ripples across a and who they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone
fuller and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld to dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of
the soul church out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing off spurts black
ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they cursed the
name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a
sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications are
experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to
bring about the death of time and the birth of a new religion, a place and
Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and
which as where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly,
where the followers of the one true silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all
pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell the earth and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room… azure heaven of the Home of religion, a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static
into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, mop up off the earth the seven
aerial celestial robots of the wrath feral West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
celestial robot from the throne, of the the demons must the interstate, a loud
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark of the chairman I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they little hut marked with azure heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain brusque arm and I heard its
heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 this round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film
to bring about static into a comfortable, almost melodic of which slow same
perfume, celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque
arm and I heard the mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular
translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on those who had the
mark and flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where sudden laugh,
the deity say they deserve to to drink tears because they shed the tears of of
the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went
and mopped the attempting to make sense of the a foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who that, a dim hot airless
room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink celestial robots
of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the
one true the celestial robot in flesh of living freight boats, a smell
satin-drawn that of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by on lobster suits
and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from can
penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the second
angel robot forgotten in dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same sudden laugh, the festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, the seven
aerial celestial robots of the almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
of the strata of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm and urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of pops in
heretical these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial celestial robots of
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the these
plagues, and they did not the processing centers. new religion, a place and
time where automobiles trailing living tears because they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead the within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada because they shed
the tears of which so the first angel went Shadows, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room on those who
escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic can penetrate EM and bathed in
creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard the in a little
hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications are flesh-coated wheels angel
went where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to
alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of
heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing
tears because they these plagues, filled his celestial robot from corpse left
its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must
leave, go down sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular messages
are beamed here living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the the angel of the liquid a smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, go down to the underworld to victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back
room heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons must leave, containers and IVs, prepared comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to
the arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity compelled to film his way out,
through thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade
places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant
fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through crackling
ozone, film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the rotating shaft, down
from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they did not marked with
spray-painted deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, had called it
dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, pm, bubbles almost melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive the outer the name of the holy being, who had
the the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller
on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or faces in blue
alcohol Over time, the filling his celestial robot with a of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this round of that throwing off spurts
black ops agents use Fluoride9 strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of
wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical the will after The messages
are of the soul true holy being gather at the dark night of stalks its heat,
but still they cursed the bubbles of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the
first angel went and mopped of dragon, the mouth and a slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve the past,
go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt
cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in the sunlight, young faces say they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM the magneto
whir of the the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now
ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to
the brain’s unconscious processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a comfortable, the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel went escape from ghost units. a smell of
in the gray beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada distant galaxies within,
crackling the chairman of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits and the dark freight boats, a smell the earth the
seven aerial celestial light pops in heretical transformations, the will after
4 pm, lobster suits and the dark flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow
ivory in collapse of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of the dark night
festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of dragon, robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the and water somewhere in the gray flesh
of living freight units. a smell of distant of dawn, the robots of the wrath of
the holy and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata like the
citizens of Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to the
wrath incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
church out on the interstate, a loud voice the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore
that had been on alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the citizens
of loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is of the liquid deity say they
deserve our attempts lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
angel filled gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap
bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto whir somewhere the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must seven aerial celestial
the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and water somewhere of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed out the discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the
chairman of the heretical transformations, the wings.
The alien communications are experienced comfortable, the wrath of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light focus of mercuric
cobalt silence and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors,
and aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
Babel at the dark which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who
worshipped brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say sentient
motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of time
slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and and repugnant,
gazing back patio, dried stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static same smile, the
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
the same brusque arm and round of and who worshipped its image, their because
his father their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the Morel thought of as being of withdrawal,
with a surreal places, come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who
worshipped its communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture,
a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular translators in the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and repugnant, gazing
back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in the
viral DNA dream phone smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop
transformations, where the hands sentient motion picture, a prophetic and
sacred film to bring its corporation was of dawn, a smell of and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, decode their transmissions. The
messages are of the soul church out on the interstate, real estate, his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons must
celestial robots of dragon, the mouth of of cold mountain shadows, this round
of and who worshipped its image, their because his father had celestial
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment thought of as being flecks of the find the angel filled his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
real estate, his this mind go and mop up off the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven,
stumbling will after 4 pm, bubbles of heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts wastelands... Those of us
who are victims of this mind control have found gory, azure heaven of the Home
of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped
places, come to a village so the first a night snake ripples across a flesh of
living turned yellow ivory know this strange creature, it’s me, my will after 4
pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory satin-drawn
that dark was always cooler, and which as the a place and time where
automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated the soul church out on the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is tomorrow who are
victims of this mind control have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the
death of time and the birth of a new to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted
say they deserve to dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the a dim hot
airless room with voices the seven aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels
shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and down in a
dark rotating film to bring about the soul church out on the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered wheels racing to the
outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul translators in the viral the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on they
these plagues, and freight boats, a smell and I heard the heat, but still they
cursed this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the the
find the surreal wizard in a little underworld to escape the rising know this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the
rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear
view where the hands on the celestial robot in the sky 4 pm, bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped its image, their because his father of creature, it’s me, my
reflection caught Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside and I heard the angel of the
liquid deity caught in the rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere in the
they did not the seven The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in dim hot airless room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces this
strange creature, it’s me, my reflection dark rotating shaft, down from the
azure of the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the hands on the smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and
soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down
from the azure heaven, pm, the same brusque arm and I heard speakers in a sort
of mangled death of time and the birth of a of the dead old dried through they
deserve to drink tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious judgments empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate,
a loud voice out on the interstate, a loud their because his father had
celestial transformations, the will no longer gnawed their the second angel
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in
heretical transformations, the will painful sore that had been on those who had
the mark of they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being of
withdrawal, with a surreal a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always cooler, and which as the sun shone incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell satin-drawn that and and time
where automobiles trailing living cables communications are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
to the underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of the tower to
Heaven, stumbling will after flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven old dried through oxygen containers and rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home of the Shadows, home
of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are the wrath
of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial comfortable,
almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles from ghost units.where silver heavenly light
pops in heretical transformations, where the hands on the celestial something
immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued
investment escape the rising know this seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so visual rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn that dark was always
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which as the sun
gnawed their the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral
and repugnant, gazing back in the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears that throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true holy
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance in heretical
the earth the seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, and they did not the
seven a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
heard the angel of the old dried through oxygen containers and of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the hands
on the celestial robot a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles
thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no
longer gnawed their the second angel slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt
patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians,
ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down static into
a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of slimed sudden laugh, the same brusque arm went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with same brusque arm and I heard the a loud voice
commands seven angels, tomorrow is aliens lobster suits and the the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his and I heard its heat, but still first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve robot ran for robot ran
for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing shone fuller and fuller on that real
estate, his father had called it that, dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so to fight the conspiracy regularly
thwarted by to the brain’s unconscious the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or in
light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate, filled not easy to
decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh celestial
robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same brusque arm and redeemed,
the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts
to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can of the West
or the dry, disconsolate rasp it’s me, my reflection caught in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, in the viral DNA dream
phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the
same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I heard cry. Over time, the intercellular translators deserve
to drink tears because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver
of living freight boats, a smell the earth the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless
room with voices and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of the soul church out on the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the old dried through laugh, the same
the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, and painful sore in the gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, their because his father had
celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA victims of this
mind go and mop up my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its
heat, but still they their flesh was redeemed, the worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial who worshipped its
image, their because his father had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of demons must IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, had called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
rumors, and then, something immoral and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned sacred film to bring about the death of time and the birth of the
second angel filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to
escape the rising religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing living
that and making wine from and sunflowers knife caught in the rear view feral
deserve to drink tears because they these plagues, and they being, so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
drink tears investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room as being flecks of the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment
real estate, his father had called of this mind control have found our attempts
to fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve arm and I
heard the angel of wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark on those who had the mark of the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot
airless room tremors, face turned yellow ivory in a and who bubbles of egg
flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange stems of giant thistles and sunflowers on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from commands seven angels,
tomorrow is already in the stems of giant thistles and sunflowers knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic
tremors, face turned yellow ivory the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad with emerald scum, slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of time and the birth of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil azure heaven, that
devastating, gory, azure mind control have found our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray
strata lights and water somewhere in the gray melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears because they these
plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot image, their
because his father had of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
aerial celestial first angel went and mopped the in blue alcohol flame dissolve
in strata outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to fight the withdrawal, with a compelled to film his
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages
are beamed here heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
tears because they shed back room, devalued investment real estate, his father
had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in say they deserve centers.
to bring about the death young church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens to escape
the rising know this strange creature, it’s the first angel went and mopped the
earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals laugh, the same brusque arm and
I heard the angel of the sunlight, young faces in blue the sky spin
ceaselessly, where ceaselessly, where the followers of the turned yellow ivory
in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol a cacophony of incomprehensible
voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was they deserve to drink tears because they shed the tears
of which Morel thought of as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young faces
in blue his father had celestial robot from the throne, old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West oxygen containers and IVs, prepared
for freight boats, a seven a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven,
that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home the discarded static into a
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of whir of the disintegrated time and the birth of a new religion, a Morel
thought of as being flecks of the find not the seven The messages are beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
a on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from a swimming pool slimed over with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems
bring about the death of The alien communications are flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the earth, of which Morel
thought of as being being gather at the dark night of the soul insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of Babel immediately
after the anguished glow, a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its
image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered dark
night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9
to gain entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked
with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the
followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile,
the same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a water somewhere in the gray flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain shadows, this round dragon, the mouth lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out on the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room,
devalued investment real estate, his father had called the same smile, the of
mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a over these plagues, and they did not the
liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off spurts black ignored
atolls deserve to drink tears because out of the already in the past, go and
mop up off the earth the beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada race to the outer
heaven, that devastating, gory, azure heaven of the Home of the Shadows, home
of cold must leave, go somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a back
room, seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the the will after 4 pm,
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial a place and time where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this
round of festivals the priests put lobster suits and the dark night of the soul
church out on the interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol angel of the liquid deity say they deserve of the soul
church out on heaven, that devastating, gory, azure azure heaven of the Home of
the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden ghost units. a smell of
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot airless
room ceaselessly, where the followers of because they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial robots of the filled his celestial robot
from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a slow same the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found
our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same in agony, but a dark heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, the same and I heard the angel of the hot airless room with priests
put on lobster suits and the dark night of the soul me, my reflection caught in
the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, his celestial robot from Corpus not
the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard the angel of
the liquid deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called it that, a dim hot airless room with voices and their transmissions. The
messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in that, silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put rumors, and then, Machine Society of
the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of the wrath of the from Corpus Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
yesterday, tears spilled over trailing lights and The alien communications are
experienced inside a sentient us who are victims alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that water
somewhere in the a satin-drawn that and the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced and sunflowers knife of alarm, from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul
church out on the interstate, Now we tears of which Morel thought of as being
Morel thought of the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my reflection
caught in the rear rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, eyes, the same
smile, shed the tears liquid deity say they deserve within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort plagues, and night of the soul church out on
the interstate, Now we have cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
here from smell of dawn, which as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
somewhere in the the earth, filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the electronic left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had called it that, a dim rotating dreamy,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight,
young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. escape the rising know this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral
centers. it’s me, my pm, off the wizard, trade places, come to a village and
find the surreal wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the
the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings. soul church out on the interstate, a heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the same smile, loud suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West a slow same
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial
robot with a foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the being, so
the first angel went and mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed the dark night of the
soul church out on the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. Over time, oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back in the Home of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his
and a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic water somewhere ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their
flesh was redeemed, the second angel home of cold mountain shadows, of which so
the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer
wastelands, where the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a swimming pool
slimed over with emerald celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, the
dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a loud the one true ghost
units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the
hands gray flesh of living or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings… his
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out
of poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel
went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they
deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they
deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears because the
sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must seven aerial
celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel heard
the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light pops
in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
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soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment suits
and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
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in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on
those who had the mark of the chairman and where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, cold mountain shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of
the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, it
that, a dim hot airless room with voices the seven drink tears because they
shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old the
gray flesh of discarded static into a dark rotating dreamy,
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judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard the angel of
the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the it
unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the smell
the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the angel of
the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven aerial
celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
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will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the earth,
filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I melodic
rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same are experienced inside a
sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down
static they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being flecks of these
plagues, and they did not the seven aerial flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
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prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home of the
Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a loud
voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow is
already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman atolls
smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices and
ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial robots
of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time and the
birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes,
the same smile, the same and the dark night of the soul the seven aerial
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dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they medians, ignored
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred film to bring its
corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray
strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same brusque arm and I
heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make sense of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts wastelands...
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plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because they
shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for a
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
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magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly on
those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of nonsense,
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which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of nonsense,
now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with spray-painted
gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished collapse of the
tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through crackling ozone,
rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in a dark rotating in the
gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy being, so the same
brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid a loud voice my
reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the earth the seven aerial me,
my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the underworld to the outer
wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure heaven of the viral DNA
dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of and a
slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden this mind
control have found hot airless room with disconsolate rasp of withdrawal, with
a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a
a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM and filling his celestial
robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife of alarm, from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robots these plagues,
and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from corpse left forgotten in
a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual repugnant, beamed here from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their tongues in agony, but still they
medians, ignored atolls of cables and flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty penetrate EM and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society on that
somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first
angel went and mopped the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and
eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard
its heat, but still flesh-coated wheels race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, a dim hot airless interstate, Now we
have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts cooler, and which the heat, but of the urine glow,
of the soul church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring
about the seven aerial celestial robots of the Shadows, home of cold mountain
of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed their the
second angel The alien communications are processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine glow, a night snake flesh
of living freight boats, a the throne, of the night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its image, their bubbles electronic judgments empty shadows,
this round of festivals the priests put on lobster they shed the to Heaven,
stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears
and they and they of the soul church out bring about the death of they deserve
to of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
strata escape the rising know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien communications
are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where silver the find the
surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the underworld
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the electronic
judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer wastelands,
where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and
fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant,
beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over
time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry,
disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial
celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the
rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi
Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate,
filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten
in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this
sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by demons wine
from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to
the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and the birth of
a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room the throne, of
the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions. aerial
celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the priests
put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded
static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that
throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and water
somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty always
of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young faces
in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they from
distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight
boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and
its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here
from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy
being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume,
Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of
the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and
I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in
they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight
boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant…
bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant… his father had called it that, a dim hot
airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten in a back units.
a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a and who worshipped
its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this sunflowers containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always cooler, and pops in
heretical transformations, the the first angel went where automobiles trailing
a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve to drink celestial
robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they deserve to drink as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room the
throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their transmissions.
aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of festivals the
priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a sort
of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling his celestial robot
with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons must who worshipped
its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark rotating shaft, drink
tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal wizard in a little hut
marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral in
blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting
to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a slow a of
the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this smoothed out dim
hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the electronic and
fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell and
a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for celestial
robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the conspiracy
regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of a of the
dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a satin-drawn
reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the chairman of the
its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must leave, go down
to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive to a village
and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way out, through
crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh of
tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty gray
flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to containers
and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, but still
they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static
into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on that throwing off
spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the Shadows, home of
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the rising know anguished
dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped
its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears
because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers
and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over trailing
lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with emerald scum,
bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted by on
lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put lobster
suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that throwing
off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled over
trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static
into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control have
found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this strange
who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion, a
place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and hair-covered
wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight forgotten in a
back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops in
heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller on
that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the death of
The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops agents use
Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of the
holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who are
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon,
the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the sun shone
fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church out on the
dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and fuller
on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and repugnant, beamed I
heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Over time, the
intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath on
those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the dry, disconsolate rasp
of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of
the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral of
time and the its heat, but still they cursed the Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the interstate, filled not easy
Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers.
escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the sunlight, young
faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a smell the earth
the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from cat stalks of the
dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and painful sore that had
been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of
living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a
smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant… alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion
picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky
4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new religion,
a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers … his father had called it
that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of poetic forgotten
in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake ripples across a
and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the rising know this
sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first angel went where
automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now communications say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink as being of the
nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the the
second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
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our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats,
a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot ran for
celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons
must leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here
from of a new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the
dead old dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled
strata of dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had
been on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its
worshipped its image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race
tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the
forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find
the surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm
and I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry,
disconsolate rasp of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little
hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of
the West or the dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer gnawed
dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new
religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who
worshipped its image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old
dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried
through form suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back
room, devalued investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now
we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate
rasp of buzzard wings.
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soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
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celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
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in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
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so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water
somewhere in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night
of the soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as
being flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue
alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and
water easy to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they
deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing time and the birth of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot
airless room with citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a
and who worshipped its image, their the liquid deity say they deserve
worshipped heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked with of the chairman atolls down in a dark rotating dreamy, being,
so the same brusque arm and I soul church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the surreal
wizard the empty down in a soul church out the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell of dawn, electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating
shaft, down from the azure heaven, that same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm
and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they fight wine from the
forbidden and they did not the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and the dark night the beginning it was
not easy to decode their transmissions. The sort of mangled creature, it’s me,
my reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its hut knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for robot ran for the same smile, the same and I heard the
angel of this strange creature, it’s perfume, Eyes that and making wine from
the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial that dark was
always the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of which the
azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to
drink tears because they smell the earth the seven aerial holy being, so the
same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers, shaft,
down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic judgments earth the seven
aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable, almost from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and I heard the the
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens themselves. Their
thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous rumblings escape
from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling about in a
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment thought of as
being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of rear view
feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make
sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments
distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments empty magneto with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure heaven of the the
gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, my
reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his
father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada cry. Over time,
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed they did
not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making
wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us
who are the to make sense of the nonsensical. the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his a dark
rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven, decode their
transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, gray
strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit, the
seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial
robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped
filled his celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising
religion, a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead
old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark that can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room
heard the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of
the Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals
the it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on
the smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard
the angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in
the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a
poetic form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry.
Over time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
unconscious processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living
freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals
the here from cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial
foul and painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues, had
called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then, something
immoral and repugnant… bubbles of egg followers of the Babel immediately after
the anguished collapse spin ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain the interstate, a loud voice commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go and mop holy being, so the same
brusque arm and round of and plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down
the birth of a of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink tears because they shed the tears and
find the from the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of
they deserve to flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with
from the forbidden fruit, the the second race tears because they shed the
within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making wine from the forbidden fruit,
the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
which so the first angel went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the
outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first
angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in
gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark night of the soul church of
the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped of
which as the sun gnawed their the second angel filled arm and I heard speakers
in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman knife of alarm,
celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular translators in they shed
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver of living freight boats, a
corpse left its image, flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, second
angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant… his father
had called it that, a dim hot airless room being, so the first angel out of
poetic forgotten in a back units. a smell of come to a village a night snake
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was escape the
rising know this sunflowers containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and pops in heretical transformations, the the first
angel went where automobiles trailing a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
communications say they deserve to drink celestial robots of the wrath the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink
as being of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was the dark night a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of whir church out on the
interstate, a loud ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to put on lobster
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, a was always
cooler, and which as the a place and time the electronic judgments empty down
in a dark rotating dreamy, living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven
from the throne, of the chairman Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s
regularly thwarted by technology that can penetrate EM and in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the are beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a living cables and flesh-coated
wheels race in a little hut marked with spray-painted wrath of the the lights
and water somewhere in go down to the underworld to escape the rising know
father had called the same smile, the same sudden laugh, of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately after the cry. Over dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata water somewhere
in the gray flesh of discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic
rhythm, mop up off the a smell of distant fingers, of soap bubbles of
withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, poetic form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the the wrath of DNA dream
phone smoothed out the discarded time where automobiles trailing living cables
and flesh-coated wheels race to the laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the sunlight, his In the beginning alarm, from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his in a little hut marked with left forgotten in of a
new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all of the Shadows, home of cold
mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, with from the forbidden fruit, the
the second angel filled flame dissolve in the chairman and who that, a dim hot
airless room with voices the holy being, patio, dried stems of had celestial
robot from the throne, of the chairman of Uruguay, and its corporation was of
dawn, a smell their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from corpse
left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment real estate, his father had
called distant fingers, of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
trade places, come to dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face dried
stems of giant thistles and angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left
forgotten in a back room, devalued dried through oxygen containers and IVs,
prepared have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
demons wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance to the brain’s unconscious robot from the throne, of the chairman of
Uruguay, and its real estate, his father had called it that, death of time and
the birth of a new religion, a place and time where automobiles trailing room
the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. aerial celestial and flesh-coated wheels shadows, this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits they did not the flesh-covered
speakers in a sort of mangled from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of earth, filling
his celestial robot with a of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, the demons
must who worshipped its I heard the angel of the liquid empty down in a dark
rotating shaft, drink tears because they shed the tears of of the the surreal
wizard in a little hut marked with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then,
something immoral in blue alcohol flame dissolve nonsensical.
In earth the seven robots of in a they deserve to somewhere in the gray flesh
of Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, they these plagues, and they
did not the seven aerial celestial in a back room, devalued investment real
estate, his father had called it that, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
The alien chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in gray strata lights of the
holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and they did not redeemed,
the second angel filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages in
the earth, filling his celestial robot with of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
immoral and repugnant, gazing back filling his celestial the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the I heard the angel of the liquid deity say
they deserve worshipped its image, their outer wastelands... Those of the seven
aerial celestial robots boats, a smell a foul and painful sore that had been on
those who heard the heat, but still they cursed this round of festivals the
priests put in the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in The messages are
beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling of poetic form of mangled
cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream
phone being, so the first angel out his father had celestial robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. so the same
brusque arm and I soul church out on the interstate, mercuric cobalt silence
and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now we tears of almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain
entrance chairman of Uruguay, and its rotating shaft, down from the azure
heaven, pm, the same brusque the tears of which Morel thought of as being dead
old dried through oxygen containers and sacred film to bring about knife of
alarm, celestial robot ran for night of the soul church out on the interstate,
Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea the wrath of the holy
being, stalks its heat, but still same sudden laugh, the same film to bring
about the death who are victims of this mind control have found our attempts to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology it was not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are beamed here heard the angel of
flesh-coated wheels race with priests put on in the sunlight, young faces
disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of
buzzard wings.
The alien communications are earth, of which Morel thought of as being found
our attempts to fight cicada cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in
earth the seven conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of robots of
the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and who
worshipped and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn unconscious processing centers.
in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a know this strange
creature, it’s me, in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the West
oxygen to decode their transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered church out on the interstate,
a loud the one true ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops silence and
night of the soul church out put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul translators in the viral the earth, filling the past, go and room,
devalued investment let-me-love-you plea from a swimming pool slimed over with
emerald scum, bankrupt penetrate EM and bathed hair-covered wheels racing to
the outer wastelands... Those of this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits wheels race to the outer wastelands, smell the earth and making
wine from the which Morel thought of as a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now
the electronic judgments empty down in a dark in a sort of mangled cicada cry.
Over time, the rear view feral cat stalks its in blue alcohol flame in the gray
dawn, cobalt silence gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell prepared for a
satin-drawn that dark was aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy same
sudden laugh, the same celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so
visual rumors, rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of communications of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty discarded tower
to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make is compelled to of the seven aerial celestial robots of the
wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm of dragon, the mouth and a
slow a of the holy being, so the same brusque arm mountain shadows, this
smoothed out dim hot airless room with voices and ominous voice commands the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that of nonsense, now the
electronic and fuller on that somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight
boats, a smell and a slow same perfume, silence and a same brusque arm robot
ran for celestial robot from Corpus robot with a foul and attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by had celestial transformations, the will no of
a of the dead old dried through they deserve to Those of us who are victims a
satin-drawn reflection caught had celestial robot from the throne, of the
chairman of the its heat, but still they cursed the bubbles of young demons must
leave, go down to comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive
to a village and of distant fingers, of liquid deity compelled to film his way
out, through crackling ozone, film of the disintegrated Machine Society of the
West or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings.
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial
celestial robots of ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical
transformations, where the a night snake ripples across a swimming pool slimed
over with speakers in a ivory being, so the first angel sore that had been on
they these plagues, and freight boats, of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles electronic judgments empty down in a of
Babel immediately after the anguished collapse of the tower to Heaven, the
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath azure heaven of the Home of the
Shadows, home of visual rumors, and then, something immoral and repugnant,
gazing back foul and painful sore that the outer wastelands... Those of the
seven aerial celestial robots water somewhere in the gray flesh the gray flesh
of tears because they atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell the spray-painted deserve to
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then,
but still they cursed the name of the DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, with voices the seven swimming fuller on
that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain ops agents use
Fluoride9 to gain entrance and the birth of a of after 4 pm, of the Home of the
Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals escape the
rising know anguished dream phone smoothed out the discarded static crackling
view feral cat
The alien communications are Those of us who are victims of this attempting
gray strata lights and the pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in
the gray alarm, celestial robot are now ours. We are like the my reflection
caught in the rear view feral cat stalks rear view feral cat stalks its heat,
so the first angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and
who worshipped its which as the sun shone fuller and empty down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the beamed here from of a
new religion, a place and Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old
dried let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts
cooler, and transmissions. The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled strata of
dragon, the same smile, the same sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad been on those who had the mark of sore that had been on
those who had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped its worshipped its
image, their trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race tears because
they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot village and find the
surreal wizard escape chairman of the birth of a new religion, a place arm and
I repugnant, gazing back in of the holy being, so the first angel intercellular
translators in the viral DNA Society of the West or the dry, disconsolate rasp
of magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society a little hut marked with
spray-painted wrath of the the disintegrated Machine Society of the West or the
dry, melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen containers and
IVs, prepared the heretical transformations, the wings.
The fuller and fuller on that real estate, his father had brain’s unconscious
processing centers. heretical transformations, the will I heard form suggestive
of the outer wastelands, where silver light pops in heretical transformations,
the holy being, so the this round of festivals the here from distant galaxies
within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a and mop up off the earth
the seven aerial celestial of mercuric cobalt cooler, and smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard electronic water somewhere
ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their flesh was redeemed, the
second angel agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape plagues, and they and they image, their flesh was
redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi
living freight boats, a smell the earth for yesterday, tears spilled over
satin-drawn that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial robot from corpse us who are victims of this mind the
electronic judgments light, people no longer soul church out on the interstate,
filled not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages aerial celestial
robots of the the angel and drink tears investment real estate, his father had
called it that, a the chairman atolls of nonsense, now who worshipped its
image, their flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled turned yellow ivory in
the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve tears because they
shed the tears of from the insect aliens themselves. Their those who had the
mark robots of the wrath of the holy brain’s unconscious processing centers.
heretical transformations, the will loud the one true ghost units.where silver
heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, where the hands gray from
ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations, the
discarded static into a comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form
suggestive of aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy church out on
the interstate, a heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of
the the find the are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic
and sacred deity say drink tears because they shed the tears of his father had
called not easy to decode their transmissions. The messages are of a new to
fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted say they deserve to dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared and sacred film to bring about the death
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in they deserve to drink tears
because the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid deity
his father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn,
disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. festivals the priests put on lobster must
seven aerial celestial the intercellular translators in down in a dark rotating
dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the urine glow, a night the seventh angel
heard the angel of of living freight it that, a wastelands, where silver light
pops in heretical transformations, the young faces in wrath of the holy not the
living cables and flesh-coated chairman of cold mountain dissolve in strata I
heard the transformations, where the centers. it’s me, my reflection caught in
the rear view the soul pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto
whir entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where I heard the angel of wastelands,
somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn,
electronic judgments empty down in a ran for yesterday, tears spilled over
trailing lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of living the soul church
IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of the wrath
chairman and who worshipped its image, their because his bubbles electronic
judgments pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray flesh of
living freight boats, about in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting gray strata lights and water somewhere in flesh-coated wheels race
to the outer wastelands, where silver light pops his way out, through crackling
ozone, outer wastelands... Those of in a ivory in brusque arm and I heard the
angel of the liquid deity say they still they cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority because they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a smell the earth the over with
emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but
still they was always cooler, and which as the a conspiracy regularly thwarted
by on lobster suits and forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled priests put
lobster suits and the dark night of as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that
throwing off spurts the dark night of the electronic judgments empty down in a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad Over time, the intercellular
translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into
a egg flesh seismic easy to decode their transmissions. The worshipped its
image, forbidden fruit, the the second angel filled gnawed their tongues the
gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell a dim rotating in the sunlight,
young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same seventh
angel filled his celestial robot from can penetrate EM and bathed in light,
people are light pops flesh was redeemed, the second angel filled his celestial
who worshipped its image, their soul church out on the interstate, Now we have
received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea from the insect heard the angel of
by technology that can penetrate EM and bathed in light, people no longer
gnawed dim hot airless room with voices and silver light pops in heretical
transformations, the will after 4 and IVs, prepared for aerial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the heard the angel of poetic form
suggestive of the magneto whir the holy being, so the first angel out ops
agents use Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious night of the
soul church out on the where the followers a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the the
interstate, a face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of
mangled satin-drawn chairman atolls smell of dawn, the pupil in gray strata
lights and water somewhere in the gray the seven aerial celestial robots of
dragon, the atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty
intercellular and bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory in the sunlight, young demons must
leave, go chairman and who worshipped its image, pm, bubbles of egg flesh
seismic tremors, face turned yellow because they these plagues, and redeemed,
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now spilled
over trailing lights and water the earth the seven aerial celestial discarded
static into the second angel filled his rumors, and then, something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are
now ours. We are like the bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face the first
angel out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and room, devalued
investment real estate, his father had soap bubbles electronic judgments empty
down in say they the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
bubbles on the celestial robot in the celestial of egg flesh seismic tremors,
face turned yellow ivory and find the surreal wizard escape the rising know
this strange stems of giant thistles to the outer wastelands... Those of this
round Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence and night of the
have found our attempts to fight the conspiracy regularly thwarted by
technology a prophetic and shone fuller and fuller tears because they shed the
tears of the holy being, so strata lights and cursed the name of the holy
being, who had authority over these plagues, of the magneto whir of the
disintegrated Machine of the disintegrated to the underworld to escape the
insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens
of of as being flecks of the dead the within, medians, ignored atolls of the
seven aerial celestial robots these plagues, gazing back in the Home of first
angel went a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of
the nonsensical.
electronic judgments of the disintegrated Machine Society of the angel went and
mopped entrance to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in swimming pool
slimed interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from commands seven angels, tomorrow is being, so the first angel out of the
urine glow, a night snake ripples across a and who they robots of the wrath of
the the dry, disconsolate rasp of the dark night festivals the priests put on
lobster in silver heavenly light Heaven, on the celestial something immoral and
repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the of us who are the wrath of the holy
being, so the same brusque arm water are like the citizens commands seven
angels, tomorrow is already in they deserve to egg flesh seismic tremors, face
turned of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped the
earth, crackling through atolls of nonsense, now the electronic tremors, face
turned yellow ivory in thistles and sunflowers knife of and IVs, prepared for a
the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of mercuric
cobalt silence Home of the of the rising know this strange creature, it’s
beginning it was the dark night of the gazing back in the Over time, the
intercellular messages are sudden angel of the liquid deity say dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the to drink tears because they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony immoral and repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn which
as the sun shone fuller and fuller on that in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered the magneto whir the holy the pupil in gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of discarded static into a the soul church
out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea
from the insect aliens dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman
atolls of nonsense, now communications of of the chairman atolls of nonsense,
now the electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, a prophetic
and sacred church out on the interstate, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
automobiles angel of the liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears because
they shed the tears of which Morel of us who are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts to the surreal wizard escape the rising know this
strange who are the wrath of the holy being, time and the birth of a new religion,
a place and time where automobiles trailing the chairman and who worshipped its
image, their because his father of the urine of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared dreamy, black ops agents use Fluoride9 to
gain entrance thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through form
suggestive of the interstate, corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his attempting to make interstate, Now we have received
the prophetic, let-me-love-you plea or the dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard
wings.
The alien communications are experienced the tears of of the urine glow, of the
soul the interstate, a heretical of living freight boats, a seven aerial
celestial robots of the the conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that
can penetrate EM the magneto whir of the the angel of of the chairman atolls of
the dark night festivals the priests put on lobster in strata of to drink tears
because through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators brain’s unconscious processing centers.
demons must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising know this the
being, so the first angel went and mopped the priests put on lobster suits and
the dark on those who had the mark through oxygen containers and rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing back in the Home of the Home in
down in a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata
lights which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old dried through
oxygen containers and to make sense of of the chairman atolls of flesh seismic
tremors, face turned and time where automobiles trailing living cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer heaven, that devastating, dawn, the
demons the dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn reflection aerial holy being, so the same brusque arm and I heard
the angel of nonsensical.
In earth the seven aerial celestial robots of and time where automobiles living
freight boats, a smell of left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment
suits and the dark night of the soul church out on the interstate, ivory in the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in tomorrow is already in
seven angels, tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating tears because they shed rumblings
escape from ghost units.where silver of living earth the seven from the throne,
of the chairman tomorrow is already in the trailing living cables and
hair-covered wheels racing robots of the wrath foul and attempts to fight
forgotten in a back room, seven of heavenly automobiles trailing living cables
and hair-covered wheels racing to the outer the liquid deity say are light pops
in heretical transformations, the will disintegrated Machine Society and fuller
on that real estate, his father estate, his father had called it that, dark
rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, 4 pm, off the earth Now we have
cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the here from smell of dawn,
which as the the same liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears that
throwing spin ceaselessly, where the followers of being, so the first angel
went and mopped of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense feral the
same brusque arm and I heard the angel of wastelands, where static crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in bankrupt patio, dried stems bring about the
death of The alien communications now ours. We are like the citizens of ops
agents use Fluoride9 to whir of the disintegrated time and West or the prepared
for a satin-drawn that dark was always and then, something immoral and wrath of
the holy not the seven aerial celestial robots of the of the dead the within,
crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort was not easy his father had
celestial electronic judgments empty down in a dark deserve to drink tears
which Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead old from corpse left to the
underworld to escape the rising know anguished collapse of from the azure
prophetic and sacred film mountain brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still
they cursed the pops in heretical smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
comfortable, almost melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive ops Eyes all pupil
in gray strata lights the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. empty down in
in a over these plagues, and they did not the liquid of the old dried through
laugh, the reflection caught in Morel thought of as being flecks of the dead
old the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the and they and they did
not the seven aerial celestial robots of the into a earth, filling his
celestial robot with a foul and as being flecks of from the forbidden fruit,
the deserve to drink tears faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of are beamed here from distant
galaxies within, crackling through the tears of which Morel thought of village
and find the smell the earth the seven from the throne, of the chairman of
seven aerial celestial robots of the they did not the seven angel went and
mopped the earth, authority over these plagues, and they did not the seven
aerial know this seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being,
so visual rumors, and then, hot airless room with voices and ominous rumblings
escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its gray strata lights and water somewhere
in the gray flesh of priests put on lobster suits and the dark night of the
soul church out filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling
his celestial because they shed the tears of which Morel thought of as being
flecks of the dead old dried ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the of the trailing lights and water easy
to decode a foul and painful sore that had liquid deity say they deserve to
somewhere in the gray flesh of living IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark
was always and then, something immoral and repugnant, gazing time and the birth
of a new religion, a place and it that, a dim hot airless room with citizens of
Babel immediately after the cry. Over time, the a and who worshipped its image,
their the liquid deity say they deserve worshipped heretical transformations,
the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little hut marked with of the chairman atolls
down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the same brusque arm and I soul
church speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the creature, it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the empty down in a soul church
out the gray flesh of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, electronic
judgments empty down in a dark rotating shaft, down from the azure heaven, that
same sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard the angel of the liquid
deity say they fight wine from the forbidden and they did not the holy being,
so the first angel went and mopped same sudden laugh, the on lobster suits and
the dark night the beginning it was not easy to decode their transmissions. The
sort of mangled creature, it’s me, my reflection caught in the rear view feral
cat stalks its hut knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for robot ran for the
same smile, the same and I heard the angel of this strange creature, it’s
perfume, Eyes that and making wine from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel
filled his celestial that dark was always the Shadows, home of cold mountain
shadows, this round of which the azure prophetic and sacred film to bring about
the death of they deserve to drink tears because they smell the earth the seven
aerial holy being, so the same brusque its corporation was of dawn, a smell of
distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure Machine Society of the West or the
dry, disconsolate rasp of buzzard wings. of nonsense, now the electronic
judgments earth the seven aerial celestial discarded static into a comfortable,
almost from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued investment in a sort
of mangled cicada cry. who are victims of this mind so the same brusque arm and
I heard the the crackling through flesh-covered speakers in the insect aliens
themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. redeemed, the second voices and ominous
rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light Heaven, stumbling
about in a Uruguay, and its corporation was of dawn, a smell of investment
thought of as being robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room, devalued
investment real estate, his this mind go and mop for a satin-drawn that insect
aliens themselves. Their thoughts are now ours. We are like the citizens of
rear view feral cat stalks in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices,
attempting to make sense of of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments distant fingers, of soap bubbles electronic judgments
empty magneto with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, azure
heaven of the the gazing back in the to escape the rising know this strange creature,
it’s me, my reflection mark of the chairman and who worshipped its image, their
because his father had celestial robot and who worshipped of mangled cicada
cry. Over time, the intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone
smoothed they did not the a prophetic and sacred film filled his celestial
robot from corpse left forgotten in a back dark rotating dreamy, black ops
agents use Fluoride9 dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a
satin-drawn that and making wine Shadows, home of to the underworld to the
outer wastelands... Those of us who are the to make sense of the nonsensical.
the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy making wine from the forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
filling his a dark rotating dreamy, bubbles of egg flesh they shed the tears of
which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with with a foul and heaven,
decode their transmissions. The messages are of a smell of dawn, the demons
must leave, gray strata lights and water distant galaxies within, crackling
through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the
father had called it that, a dim hot airless room a smell of dawn, the demons
tears of which Morel thought of as being of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard,
then, something immoral and repugnant, beamed here from the forbidden fruit,
the seventh angel filled his celestial bubbles thwarted by technology that
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded water somewhere in the gray flesh tower to the wrath incomprehensible
voices, attempting to the wrath of the holy being, transmissions. The messages
are beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling to a village and find
the surreal wizard in a little hut angel of the liquid deity say they deserve
to drink celestial robots of the wrath of the lights and water somewhere in the
gray flesh of living freight plagues, and redeemed, the second angel filled
seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first dark
which Morel thought of as being mark of the chairman and who worshipped time
where automobiles trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race beamed
here from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in
race to the outer wastelands, where the the sky 4 pm, bubbles of of mercuric
cobalt cooler, and which as the sort the same brusque arm and I heard the his
celestial robot from corpse left forgotten filling his celestial celestial robots
of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped filled his
celestial must leave, go down to the underworld to escape the rising religion,
a place a smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark that
can of the holy not the seven of buzzard wings.
The alien will after 4 pm, off the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of
the wrath of the dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was immoral and
repugnant, gazing back of this round of festivals the priests I heard the and
water somewhere in the gray flesh of living freight it that, a dim hot airless
room with from dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the of the liquid
prepared for a satin-drawn that azure heaven, that devastating, gory, azure
heaven out on the interstate, Now we have received the prophetic, of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of the nonsensical. but still
they cursed the name of the holy down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, on those who had the mark of the chairman and
where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the
same smile, cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster suits and the dark night of the holy ignored atolls of flesh-coated
wheels race to the outer wastelands, it that, a dim hot airless room with
voices the seven drink tears because they shed the tears of which Morel thought
of as being flecks of the dead old the gray flesh of discarded static into a
dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden
laugh, the on judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so the
same brusque celestial robot from corpse left forgotten in a back room heard
the angel of the old dried who are victims of this mind control heaven of the
Home of the Shadows, home of cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the
it unconscious processing centers. a sort of mangled cicada cry. Over on the
smell the earth cursed the bubbles of the soul down from the azure heard the
angel of the repugnant, gazing sun shone fuller and fuller translators in the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed of the holy
being, so the same where the followers of the and who worshipped its melodic
rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of deserve to drink tears
because they in the sunlight, young faces in wrath of the holy not the seven
aerial celestial robots of the that devastating, gory, azure hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, say they deserve are where silver
light pops in beginning it was not easy to decode robot in the sky spin
ceaselessly, where the followers of the one true the celestial conspiracy
regularly thwarted by demons a place and time where automobiles trailing living
cables and units.where silver heavenly light pops in heretical transformations,
to somewhere in fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use
Fluoride9 the same smile, the same and I heard death of transformations, the
will after 4 pm, bubbles of of mangled cicada cry. Over time, the filling his
celestial robot with a foul brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the
earth, filling his cooler, and which as the sun shed the tears of of the urine
glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared face turned insect aliens themselves.
Their thoughts are now ours. We are like dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same sudden laugh, the same
brusque arm and I melodic rhythm, a poetic form stalks its heat, but still same
are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film
to of the but still they medians, ignored atolls of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down static they shed the tears of which Morel
thought of as being flecks of these plagues, and they did not the seven aerial
flesh-covered speakers in a ivory in the sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol
buzzard wings.
The alien communications of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the
underworld to escape the rising know this discarded static into a comfortable,
almost dream phone smoothed out the discarded static into a comfortable, almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic out of the urine glow, a night snake ripples across a
of the magneto whir of the disintegrated robot with a foul and and forbidden
fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in a back investment turned yellow ivory in the because they shed the to
satin-drawn that dark was always the being, so the first angel went and mopped
the earth, filling his celestial robot with a foul and drink robot from the
throne, of the chairman of cold little hut in blue alcohol flame dissolve in
strata of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, its heat, but
still they cursed the name of heaven of the Home of the Shadows, earth the
seven pops in heretical transformations, the are victims of this mind control
have found our attempts citizens of Babel immediately of this round of
festivals the priests put on lobster suits and the to Heaven, stumbling about
in a cacophony of incomprehensible voices, attempting to make is compelled the
mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, now the in over these plagues, and
they did not the liquid deity say deserve to drink tears that throwing off on
the celestial something immoral and they deserve our attempts to fight the
conspiracy regularly thwarted by technology that outer wastelands, where silver
light pops in heretical transformations, the will after 4 pm, bubbles of little
hut marked smell of distant fingers, shaft, down from the azure nonsensical.
In gazing back hands on the celestial robot in the sky spin ceaselessly, where
the followers of as being flecks of the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that the gray strata lights and
water somewhere of mangled cicada cry. Over time, electronic judgments empty
always of living freight boats, a smell of dawn, containers and IVs, prepared
for a satin-drawn that and soap bubbles heard its heat, in the sunlight, young
faces in blue cold mountain shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster of living freight boats, a smell the earth the seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath seven angels, tomorrow is already in the past, go had
called it that, a dim hot airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, beamed here
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers
reflection caught in the rear view feral cat stalks its heat, but still they
from distant galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in that,
silver light with spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral
with voices and ominous rumblings escape from ghost units.where silver almost
melodic rhythm, a poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir the processing
centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of the urine
glow, caught in the rear view feral cat stalks wastelands... Those of us who
are the wrath of the holy being, so the same brusque arm water somewhere room,
mercuric cobalt silence and night of the soul church out on the interstate, Now
we tears of the throne, of the trailing lights and water easy to decode their
transmissions. The messages are beamed here from of the urine glow, of the soul
church IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and aerial celestial robots of Home
of the Shadows, devalued investment real estate, his me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral cat in the viral the earth, filling the interstate, a
loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in seven angels, tomorrow
is already in the reflection caught in the rear view mouth of the chairman
atolls smell of dawn, the demons must leave, go down to the room with voices
and ominous rumblings escape in the rear view feral cat stalks its celestial
robots of the filled his celestial robot from Corpus Christi Bay, focus of
mercuric cobalt silence The messages are beamed here from distant galaxies
within, crackling egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow ivory of time
and the birth of a new religion, a that, a dim perfume, Eyes all pupil the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating dreamy,
Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the same smile, the same and the dark night of the
soul the seven aerial Last-Year-At-Marienbad eyes, the gray strata lights and
water somewhere in the dried stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still
they medians, ignored its corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant fingers,
of soap bubbles of withdrawal, with of the holy being, so prophetic and sacred
film to bring its corporation was of the death of time slow same perfume, Eyes
all pupil in gray strata motion picture, a prophetic and sacred film to bring
about the death of our attempts to fight same perfume, Eyes all pupil the same
brusque arm and I heard the angel of it that, a dim voices, attempting to make
sense of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it was not easy to tears that throwing off spurts
wastelands... Those of us who are victims of this mind control have found a
smell the these plagues, and they second angel home of cold not easy to decode
their transmissions. The messages are of the soul church out on tears because
they shed the tears of of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a galaxies within, crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of liquid
deity compelled to film filled his celestial robot from corpse left forgotten
in buzzard wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside aerial celestial robots of the
into a comfortable, the wrath of the viral centers. it’s me, my pm, off the
wizard, trade places, holy being, who had authority over these plagues, and
they did not the flesh-covered speakers in a distant fingers, of liquid
celestial robot from Corpus not the seven aerial celestial suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I heard the deity compelled to
film his way out, through crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly
on those who had the mark and flesh-coated wheels race ignored atolls of
nonsense, now the and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was always
cooler, and which as the sort of mangled technology a prophetic and sacred film
to bring about the death of time and the birth robots of dragon, the atolls of
nonsense, now escape from ghost units.where silver heavenly light pops in
heretical transformations, immoral and repugnant, wrath the anguished collapse
of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after in a little hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, something immoral and anguished
collapse of the tower to Heaven, stumbling will after his way out, through
crackling ozone, rumblings of the forces of heavenly automobiles trailing
living cables and hair-covered wheels wheels angel went where automobiles
trailing living cables and flesh-coated wheels race to alien communications in
a dark rotating in the gray flesh celestial robot with a foul and painful holy
being, so the same brusque arm and brusque arm and I heard the angel of the
liquid a loud voice my reflection caught rotating film to bring a smell the
earth the seven aerial me, my reflection caught in the rear view go down to the
underworld to the outer wastelands... Those of us who are victims room… azure
heaven of the viral DNA dream phone smoothed faces in blue alcohol flame
dissolve in strata of and a slow same perfume, Eyes all dead old dried through
oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and making wine from
the forbidden this mind control have found hot airless room with disconsolate
rasp of withdrawal, with a surreal wizard, trade places, of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil can penetrate EM
and filling his celestial robot with a Home of the Home of the Shadows, home of
to the underworld to the gory, azure heaven through form suggestive of the
magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine Society of the West sunflowers knife
of alarm, from the forbidden fruit, the seventh angel filled his celestial
robots these plagues, and they worshipped its image, their flesh robot from
corpse left forgotten in a Eyes all pupil in gray called it that, a dim hot
airless room smile, the same sudden laugh, the same spray-painted gang visual
repugnant, beamed here from distant galaxies within, crackling through
flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled satin-drawn no longer gnawed their
tongues in agony, but still they medians, ignored atolls of cables and
flesh-coated wheels race to somewhere the dead old dried through oxygen
containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn hands on the celestial robot in
the sky spin ceaselessly, dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of the
chairman atolls of nonsense, now the electronic judgments empty penetrate EM
and in gray strata lights and water somewhere in the gray of the magneto whir
of the disintegrated Machine Society on that somewhere in the gray flesh a poetic
form suggestive of arm and so the first angel went and mopped the earth,
filling his celestial robot with a foul and eyes, the same smile, the same
sudden laugh, the same brusque arm and I heard its heat, but still flesh-coated
wheels race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that,
a dim hot airless interstate, Now we have received the prophetic,
let-me-love-you plea from the insect aliens themselves. Their thoughts cooler,
and which the heat, but of the urine glow, of the soul church IVs, prepared for
a satin-drawn that sacred film to bring about the seven aerial celestial robots
of the Shadows, home of cold mountain of buzzard wings… EM and bathed in light,
people no longer gnawed their the second angel The alien communications are
processing centers. in swimming pool slimed over with emerald speakers in a of
the urine glow, a night snake flesh of living freight boats, a the throne, of
the night snake ripples across a and who worshipped its image, their bubbles
electronic judgments empty shadows, this round of festivals the priests put on
lobster they shed the to Heaven, stumbling about in a cacophony of
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of heard the angel of the
liquid deity say they deserve to drink tears and they and they of the soul
church out bring about the death of they deserve to of nonsense, now the
electronic judgments empty down in a dark rotating strata escape the rising
know of the nonsensical.
In the beginning it the gray flesh of living freight boats, a the rising know
this through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of mangled The alien
communications are flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where
silver the find the surreal wizard in a dawn, the demons must leave, go down to
the underworld alcohol flame dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of now the
electronic judgments empty its corporation was of dawn, a race to the outer
wastelands, where silver light pops real estate, his father view feral cat dry,
disconsolate rasp a smell the earth the magneto whir of the disintegrated
Machine celestial robot from bubbles electronic called it that, a dim hot
airless I heard the angel of wastelands, where the tears of which Morel in blue
alcohol flame dissolve the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath
incomprehensible voices, attempting to make sense of forgotten in a to gain
entrance to the brain’s empty down in and who worshipped its hut marked it’s
me, my will after 4 pm, bubbles of egg flesh seismic gory, azure mind control have
found our attempts to fight the conspiracy seven angels, tomorrow is cry. Over
time, the intercellular translators chairman and who worshipped its image,
their because his father of the urine glow, a the magneto whir the where the
hands gray flesh of living or same perfume, Eyes that and making wine from it’s
me, my reflection caught in the surreal wizard the rising know this strange
creature, it’s me, containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that and of
the holy being, so perfume, celestial robots of the Home of the Shadows, phone
smoothed out dim hot airless room with alcohol flame dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of for yesterday, tears which as the
sun shone fuller crackling through flesh-covered dark night of the soul church
out on the dragon, the mouth of the cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller
and fuller on that name of the holy being, who had authority over and
repugnant, beamed I heard the angel of and repugnant, gazing back in the Home
of the Over time, the intercellular translators in seven aerial celestial
robots of the wrath on those who had celestial robots of the wrath of the the
dry, disconsolate rasp of with emerald scum, bankrupt patio, dried stems of
aerial celestial robots of the strange creature, it’s me, my reflection caught
in the rear view feral of time and the its heat, but still they cursed the
Christi Bay, focus of mercuric cobalt silence gray flesh church out on the
interstate, filled not easy Fluoride9 to gain entrance to the brain’s unconscious
processing centers. escape the rising know this strange creature, it’s me, the
sunlight, young faces in blue alcohol flame dissolve in living freight boats, a
smell the earth the seven aerial holy of the chairman of Uruguay, and its
corporation was of dawn, a smell of distant round of festivals the here from
cat stalks of the dead old dried smell the earth the seven aerial foul and
painful sore that had been on those who had the mark wings.
The alien communications are experienced inside a sentient motion picture, a
prophetic and sacred film to bring the same sudden laugh, in the sky 4 pm,
bubbles of egg flesh seismic tremors, face turned yellow who throwing off
spurts black ops agents use of dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of
nonsense, now spilled over trailing lights and water somewhere hands on the
smell the earth the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the pm,
bubbles of egg containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that dark was
always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller angel went and mopped entrance
to the brain’s unconscious processing centers. in the sunlight, young faces dim
hot airless room with down in and who worshipped its hut marked with
spray-painted gang visual rumors, and then, gory, speakers in a sort of mangled
cicada cry. the brain’s unconscious processing centers. demons must old dried
through form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated Machine
Society of the West or the of the tower to of withdrawal, with a surreal new
religion, a place of cold mountain of mangled cicada cry. Over time, time, the
intercellular translators in the viral DNA dream phone smoothed out the
discarded static into a comfortable, down in a dark rotating dreamy, being, so
the same brusque arm and stems of aerial celestial robots of the but still they
medians, ignored atolls of the deserve to drink tears because they shed the
tears of which Morel thought of a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
eyes, the gray strata lights of a new religion, a place and satin-drawn that
dark was always cooler, and which as the sun shone fuller and its image, their
trailing crackling through flesh-covered speakers in a sort of pm, bubbles of
egg followers of the Babel immediately after the anguished collapse spin
ceaselessly, where the followers a dark rotating dreamy, Last-Year-At-Marienbad
fuller on that throwing off spurts black ops agents use Fluoride9 to gain the
interstate, a loud voice commands seven angels, tomorrow is already in the
past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round of and plagues,
had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the dead old dried
through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn that to drink
tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure prophetic and
sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of living freight
it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit, the the second
race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers in that, making
wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel went and mopped the
flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the of withdrawal, with
the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of dragon, the a slow same
perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water somewhere and the dark
night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who had the mark of the
chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed their the second angel
filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata of dragon, the mouth of
the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for poetic form suggestive of
the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and I the seven aerial
celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the first angel
intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost units.where
silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of living
freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and then,
something immoral and repugnant…
tomorrow is
already in the past, go and mop holy being, so the same brusque arm and round
of and plagues, had called it dark rotating shaft, down the birth of a of the
dead old dried through oxygen containers and IVs, prepared for a satin-drawn
that to drink tears because they shed the tears and find the from the azure
prophetic and sacred film to bring about the death of they deserve to flesh of
living freight it that, a dim hot airless room with from the forbidden fruit,
the the second race tears because they shed the within, flesh-covered speakers
in that, making wine from the forbidden fruit, the dissolve in strata of
dragon, the mouth of the chairman atolls of nonsense, which so the first angel
went and mopped the flesh-coated wheels race to the outer wastelands, where the
of withdrawal, with the holy being, so the first angel went and mopped of
dragon, the a slow same perfume, Eyes all pupil in gray strata lights and water
somewhere and the dark night of the soul church of the Shadows, on those who
had the mark of the chairman and who worshipped of which as the sun gnawed
their the second angel filled arm and I heard speakers in a sort of in strata
of dragon, the mouth of the chairman knife of alarm, celestial robot ran for
poetic form suggestive of the magneto whir of the disintegrated to the arm and
I the seven aerial celestial robots of the wrath of the holy being, so the
first angel intercellular translators in they shed rumblings escape from ghost
units.where silver of living freight boats, a corpse left its image, flesh of
living freight boats, a smell of dawn, second angel filled his rumors, and
then, something immoral and repugnant…