I’d worked on it, that new and crazy scheme,
It could, if God was game, perhaps, prevail.
Same time next year it is, was it the Jew,
who penned so many plays, he looks the part,
I’m working on the strategy to talk to you,
to sell you love and have it look like modern art.
I haven’t got the guts my lovely, though I try,
if we could meet each year, I’d pay the devil thrice,
to put my fingers on your freshly shaven thigh
I’d climb the Alps and get you ANY Edelweiss.
Und wenn man guckt sieht man dass Damenihr Kinn verschoenern durch den Rahmen.Sie reden Tag und Nacht natuerlichsehr oft sogar ganz unwillkuerlich,Das Fett im Kinn auf alle Faelleverlangsamt diese Wortesschwaelle.Somit wird Stimmband, Zahn und Zungesowie beidseitig auch die Lungegeschont sodass sie sich bewahredie Redekunst fuer viele Jahre.
Rhode Island Reds were more my style, go check the books……I’d want my hand go very slowly up your leg.Please stay with me, my love, I need your impish smile,it may well be that it is destiny that rang,I have those flashes, how I catch you in the aisle,would you allow me, once again? Don’t…
one of the 38 peacemaker coltsand fourteen cowboy suits,the spinning top from Grandmaand the skis, as well as those contraptionsthat would cut into the leather of our boots,we’d float across the ice; the Bowie knifeat fourteen years, and then the twenty-two,three speeds, it was the envy of all bikes,I can’t remember all, though it was…
when the knock finally cameand death called out his namehe said, please, just one last farewell fart.Father Death had ignored this small pleaBart was home that was easy to seewhen the loudest of fartsand it had to be Bart’sblew the reaper right down on his knee.When the reaper is utterly humbledand his job has been…
and where the soul evadeswhat never mustbecome routineor commonplaceI love the sheenof your sweet face.
The likes of it! Oohm, oohm, and scary,he could not find it in his mind,his comfort yielding to frustration,when so far up the old shit creek,once dunked, twice dripping, also smartingfrom nagging curiosity.And inner voices aim to badger.Oh yes, the hubby mantis lusted,then only said, ‘What the….’, no less,when finely chiseled hands proceededto tear his…
