Door drop and drown with fainted crown simply sound-ly found inside the safe of cold, crested cape, soft dribble pounds the glorious pond with deft and drab sound whisking, washing, rinsing, without the loudness of connection and stripped perfection feigns the ferocity of the fallen, the sullen, the pulled and pressed and shaped and baked, confections of foxy pretense and sexy succulence, all round and circled and swirled into the squarest of spheres, waiting with feather nerves, nesting, never non-ending drift, abraded from the cliff-edge stone, the earthen bone, spires entirely with sternness, mobility, monotony.
