Worced shit

Reinforced steel driving a cart of wheels on high heels is how I feel about the 1D real's who couldn't even blacebo their own realms but had a stolen dream-3. Making a post to shit on people above their grade, maybe a king may pose as a pope transposing some lean fats on a nosedive with no hose. Enforcing the Real News on some dull papers, to be re-used and amusedly I read in the toilet, to let my toys suppose shit on me, while I'm eating it up between the roses and some pork-roast and be post-freed to speech speedy stoners seeds: "Sex sells";  "On seashells Afrodite some oil sells"; "Sussex Wisconsin or England" while suing tacobells for the rhyme and grils, in my first wills I would chill with Bruce Willis to die hardcore and mill wars on battlescars of broken jars of clay, straight out of jackets. But, not the white's or blacks - just some remote farce. Cracking the code to wise up and toughen my lip, still no-clipping mode on my peace of tape, as some mis-takes of baker's cake re-ducted, sold a hot flake! Worced shit is always up, but nice words are scarce, to lit a worship for the sake of it and not for the grains of salts - Hale Mary may do it or put on some De Vit. Ass-salting some stealth swats to nail the flies that never got Icarus nor Bond to toss... French frogs in my pond there drinking sake to state it: "Brawls are for sub-marines sinking like titanic and not for the Seals." Dupe mashines do duke it out on leisure with glee - Plotters ain't no Potter to let it rip, even their bay-pal days robo-drippings are loosing the grip to some dark moves boo-jutsu and the chip on the shoulder to a drive-in Moose, who forgat to bring along a whip. Shooting from the hip some sturdy rhymes bending reality and concubines, binary alternate genomes and signs to aliby the orifice what resigned under the pain of scathe. No better abyss than the plot-hole to scour the doug for broken glasses and a flat sun on a dime cord dial-in stuttering in cordial carnal sin of having a vile grin about being famous - just to the math. Insulting matters - if I just could fastest gun Nobody and have a karaoke sing on my singed feet while barfing into the garbage bin and washing up tooth for a selfie on a whim pin heading my dim light behind the counter. Charley Brown was to be crit. hit on Futurama while playing Bender, preserving the servatives of multitudes to opt and construde the interlude nobody wanted to grime and blues. Globetrotters in the red book communisting the misconception intersepting my sepsis to another intersection out of reach and beyond the fourth wall what was cumming some paint dried on picket fence off-hand sat on to rent: "Can ser Jon know something before he fell into the snow?" Some fell creatures pose features what turn the other cheek of 'but' and Chop Socky Chooks in the mall against Wasabi roasted a Fish, spoiling the dish. I wonder why spice girls didn't have a diss? Preaching some premature textures to meditate on the gravity of nature, when you let your future drown the drain while posing like you're Alice in Chains seesawing Carnival of Rust, while dusk to dust tears are sowing their owns reapers of retards reappearing rewards - the island of lost afairs comdot bust. The vultures are closing in on the carrion when blood their sent repeaters on the hour of lent to offer a peace of meat from the chest what is not theirs to be Ishmael nor Caleb - at best the bad copy of Harvey Dent cosplaying as Saturday. But the show is a bitch and on she goes it's a must art to mustard my a la cart stalwart guard infusing dong keys with zen feels to meditate on the grim and ripe to be rated. Of ill fate is to hope for a happy ending what has already ended on a bumper somewhere else to mate a checkmark and a better rate for dope lines and a fistbump solemnly great. High five-blue skies; roses are red but that shit aint mine; lullabies mockingbirds lulled bias, gullable miasm outpaced for BS; tracing the franchise disguise pervasive and unwise oxy-moroning the borrowing Morrowing of harrowing broken arrowing of second Travoltas and third Slaters on a brass poker plater to be wrecked and reconciled into laters, as soon as the right fairy gives a pumpkin for your midnight gathering to wingman the last sting op of bling first and then the dope slang be the blind pin-king. At a blink of an eye, the hand is faster than the good-bye to shell-game some shocks to stock out wallmart on a fire-sale and put your free slots on the mashine promising getting high is the best life school to be in... Out of scale are the crows that rap on the door of Heaven while flirting with Hellbent needs and ordeals, nobody asked em to mean business. The Creel is there to catch the fallen head as the tails fall behind their legs and the lie gets inspected. Sublime is to sub lime for the glue and rhyme like a prisoner doing hard time confessed to be innocent til the last drop of ink in his pen and eager ears could listen to and abide. Actions speak volumes than tall words, a check what bounces is not the same as Shakespeares sword, furthermore the be heard and not be hearded into a flock and sirred up for a stirring slur the blur is always more closer than the answer to your cur... Few may curfew through the honeydew to find a cure on the estanrge and obscure, courting up for a martial who is not like a white martian for some Teens who masquerade while Digimooning Rashomon and Bill Gates - references crossed paths dueling out for the green. What could it possibly mean?