Let's offer up our prayers to a finicky Father who sits in his segregated heaven, rocking away senility on that rickety chair with a spare, tall back wrapped in striped wool blankets.
Who sits in his segregated heaven, rocking? Our Father, keeping his heart warm against the gusts. With a spare, tall back wrapped in striped wool blankets perfectly square (but too small to share with others),
our Father's keeping his heart warm. Against the gusts and idling time, again he stays busy carving figures perfectly square but too small to share. With others, these tokens will help the faithful remain fertile
and idling. Time again, he keeps busy carving figures on the edges of a pesky map. Mad for expansion, these tokens will help the faithful. "Remain fertile!" Father cautions, as he watches a big screen TV.
On the edges of a pesky map mad for expansion, many errant souls who wander are unable to hear Father's cautions. As he watches a big screen TV, the devil's slipping him a low-ball offer to buy
many errant souls. Who wander are unable to hear news heaven's economy is still struggling, and the devil's slipping him. A low-ball offer to buy, our aging Father mulls over hot oatmeal and tea.
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