Maver rube drude language is lank and I am true

Blue people cloud me with their sinking troubles:
I bother strong flaccid trees with a plan to be cruel afterwards.

There is no afterwards.

Moose good is good.

I slay my Mom as a woman to be poor and loving scowling traces plea for cruel dreams.

It is this time I tell you bob is bruce; bruce is loose; noose is croose.  Live me possible narcotic danger.

When Wilson I don't know him I slay to be poor.

I wish for darkness to act like clouds.

Possibly I have no love for bruce as a bird.

Quit telling me I am Julia; I will not fail to be nuts..

My mother is living why I am here.  I tell you go to your friends and be troubled with wafer tree lashes.

The goner here is moose.

I have hope; I am just flowering coldly for the softness of lace.

Moose do not teach failure to my Mom gay is flasks.

I share not the dream of peace:  I am quoted as being shit in my life of worship and terrorism.

Shall I work?  Is my Mother politically trained?  Will you feel better if I am dreaming of love?

My Mother will say you do peace like I am a trinket without drama.

Cloud dream:  do not stink where I need you.

Shop for race because only darkness is dreaming of flowers.