______________________________ O the watch keeps time ~ ____________
This farce has a moon mumble Jill. She count and recounting decomposable. Passable to the liver. Not a shunning cage, but the codliver oil of mother and father.
Silence as Athena passes over. The cloth mist and factory parting its burlap cover. Not a second too late to its furthest icon. Something to go along with the breath rifting the wave splitting its end by curling.
Come along lovelies this lace's tied your bound ~ .
Between those chords you were born ~
That's Paris and the storm ~
where truth was born ~
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