Textures warm splinter rail way.
Medal, cob webs white.
Medal slug's in-bedded calmly.

Next day boot's stomp the Earth in near attempts.

Two pull us from our resident, at peace of carved wood.

His angary, rage was seen by many he mutter's a word not sure his meaning.

He said in a grunge manner displaying his hate for his art was wrongly designed.

I made you for a lady I met at the Zoo, her name you'll ask is Lilly.