Your non-sequitur:

Neat! That is so very orthodox! In a 3-Dimensional Ching sort of way. My, my.. This fierce head seems to be inflating inevitably. How can this be? After all, the paralegal pencil is touching next to the antialiased muses across the tarterus.

Oh the firing scary chopped theater. Woe! People of the hollywood, stomp! You can only solidify your valvular tambourines! A mother is someone whose rock cleanses itself. Dammit wizard, I'm a glob not a mutant! People need good glasses, there are too many joyful ones. Suddenly, a shadowy volleyball appeared and the tambourines started to clip.

There is a problem with the pompous ruins: There is a problem with the surreal tapastries:

We have yet to coagulate a single person who can, without golf balls, proclaim even the simplest looney spinning insect under cheap conditions.

Ow, democrat- You are a happy tree. Never tell pits how to cleanse things. Tell them what to explode, and they will surprise you with their prosperous axe. If I record my lycanthrope, the rest will take care of itself. What a liquid ditty floats to the convex video recorder that listens while she gloats on the gargantuan jogging shoe. Walk similarly and carry a heinous gerbil.

You shall know the anamorphic business and the anamorphic business shall make you spinning. A terrestrial trophy is someone whose cyclops obliterates itself. Of the sheep of this tarterus man cares most for idiotic intercourse, yet he has left it out of his prophitable rocket. A saxophone is something that stampedes itself. Man prefers to excrete what he prefers to be rancid. This is your man. This is your man on tambourines. Any tambourines? I want my age now! "Villains!" I shreeked, "torch no more! I admit the deed! - Tear up the sheep! - Here, here! - Tis the spewing of his mad compact disc!" You shall know the car and the car shall make you analogue. You shall know the communion wafer and the communion wafer shall make you multifaceted.

Hey, lord- You are an indigent camera. If it weren't for undocumented people, there would be no prophitable pits. It makes perfect sense in a joyful way. Ode to a severe communion wafer. Love in the turning communion wafer. The wild treads fire throughout the hades. Every phaser has a past, and every demonstrative nail-clipper has a future.

Uh-oh, jerk- Itch this superstitious fancy man. People need annoying eaters, there are too many textured ones. My, my.. This spinning error seems to be throwing explicitly. How can this be? After all, the intoxicated fauna is shooting next to a soft flora across the heaven.

It's the large right of the manifest to kill to tread itself. A meager head does sad things, but there is one thing it does not do; It does not play its book. Hey, why is that squishy trophy mingling those sheep? And what are these "prophitable carbeurators" that ought to be prophitable? The carbeurators you iterate every day, of course, only less small. It has been said that without small glasses, only the complicated may continue to up-chuck the golf balls, illegibly. There is only one parasol worse than an amorphous lunatic mother-board and that is a ghastly show. Will you be my large lemonade stand? Pianos make tangy balloon payments. My, my.. This numerous spook seems to be touching slowly. How can this be? After all, the transdimensional bed clothing is losing abruptly across the canada.

There nearly always is spook in glue; It's what drives men mad, being amorphous.

I want my ages past now! This is your database. This is your database on sheep. Any carbeurators? In the beginning, there was nothing to kiss with, so there was no poem. And the obtuse torch announce in front of the verbose treads.

Werewolves are saturated people that only rampant cannons undulate.

People need irridescent balloon payments, there are too many pompous ones. I determine who is a gargantuan gland. There is only one pump worse than a simplistic auspicious medium and that is an amorphous guy. Then the monk said "without a rule-book" over a squishy documentation we move along, move along. Hey! Thou art a valvular vegetable!

Where is my heretic obelisk? I need it to feed obtusely. Isn't that expensive? Know your fantasies and your carnivore will always come back to you. There is a problem with the prophitable tambourines:

Brother: A flattened alarm worshipper without the flattened alarm. Oh! That is so very malodorous! In a fascist obtusely sort of way. Know your balloon payments and your hard-drive will always come back to you.