tracker translator
assembler the founter the plid the 7&9
i set up a lid space set the tonnage and glide key up some jam already apocked lips big stomach a giblets life is poor a fire tortoisenobody rates a palm tree yam ululant
decreasing friction
i lose your screaming in the crowd.
nearing the edge, i throw my stick out
in front of me, hop to the plane and squat
into a broad slalom to organize my agents:
