I'd like to tale you a stormy bout a shirt lapel boy. This colour, this colour, full of ray, of bright lights and his son, becomes such a wonderful dignity delivered by Mr. Boy on his tie-dyed flight.
The other day, I think it night of been Wednesday or posively Thurnesday, when Billy Willy, as some caught him, snook a right on his bicircus to the local bus, this same Mr. Willy shook a right on a singular such vesicle. This vesicle was so similar to his bicircus, he nearly faded deaf to the spot. He took such a shot to his sister that he landed hisself in the hostile with a broke art.
Now how did Bill find hisself in this station, you ass me? This spacial vesicle was a bit deferens from the bicircus, you seem. It possessed a demonic ground in the underbelly of its sole. The ground was scared, whenever, and produced such a delicious motion that Billy Willy embalmed every mineral he wrote the vesicle.
Bill's right was so deferens and contrarear to the norman light of a one and thussuch brung much distain down pontiff in the highs of the man. Those that posed his silly right of the bicircus and the deferens vesicle did must to prevest Will's illy right.
And the psychodelicia that Willy Billy expurgated while taping his right left his mind in a streak of disarea, and near-concert bcaos of the illanimations present. Licklick silly Billy, Mr. Willy.