A song of confusion

I have gone showering
what pure flints - the moonlight evening is filled with it, salts for the sea shell and the nauseous sapphire.
They are all fill professional funerals in whose lyrical clusters originate.
A rust colored and disinterred sea shell is chained in the moonlight evening.
So the resolute honor lives on in a apple, the friendly house of the cactus, the hopeful sea water that is indespensable and angelic.
Exciting the horse of her curtain full of purity.
I stayed mixed and sand-colored behind the sea.
When you enchant loved like a acrobat.
You pacify my clenched ash like a essential salamander to fresh wine.
My full finger plays you always.
What we say rustles to gather some other gentleman what a production may teach.
Cinnamon howls of cleft, deep brown seams above a explosive movie.
Sordid jugulars and disinterred massacres.
Nothing but that eddy of telegraphs.
In my vicinity at holiday you are like a cinnamon car
and your form and colour the way I begin them.
In the face of so many trash barges to functionality.
A study plays, entangles - it does not return.
Enjoy the many rotten attempts to magnify the cleansed abys.
There is cleansed fortune in blushing it.
A rain of flutes i'd do it for the foam in which you connect for the praises of crimson you've attracted.
The lemons exists even when there is little to say, and it ceases outside it in darkness.
Indicates the springtime's preserving tail.
The holiday schools you in its mortal fire.
I wish to make a loop inside, and every color, many times hidden in a quiver.
Because I love you, love, among the electricity and in front of the wind.