fuck the wind

Prepare for touchdown my captain! the boat's capsized its overmooring knockers. Is the way this haggles her round stage distaff . Mona clickety-cock of the saunter her breasting straight as the flumed wave soughed over mouth. Three were the words cried the hammer night! night! and her lovers were very pray .

Come boy one and two and three. It's not Oedipus my love it's you you. Sock-eye Wall eyed Franny pulls her feet to the floor, its the wax, cant take the stang. She wears sheepish clothing in her schizophrenic apparel.

No one recurs the phrase like her.

She's like her.