Wednesday, November 25, 2009

they are fake liking roaming and foresting the hot homlets.
they are grinding their shakes till the cows come to weed.
they are looking for the next riding sausage on the plane they call home. and liking it.
today they will find their keys on the top side of the bed
and their whiskers as long as they are wide
while the day goes on into infinity shaking holes in the wall and beggin for some mores.

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