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Slow dance of filings on parchment peace savouring the beats, my percussion hips. Look the rampage like other man's wife. When the dark flag bites, hymns cease and millennia entomb; heaped heads, tented eaves, latest art in the desert souk. Shik-shak-shok. The sharqi goes. Flooring it to the rhythm of dunes, as fires spew snow into the vale of prunes. Chaos of magnets pirouetting a ride. Bomb them, when nuisance gets,  some hundred women, few thousand children, not bad price, securing the heathen trail. Shik-shak-shok. The sharqi goes. Veil the faithful, jail the ***** Chaos is hope. Kaleidoscopic, cathartic taupe. Riding the tiger, picturing a goat.
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC
The abyss
Slow dance of filings on parchment peace savouring the beats, my percussion hips. Look the rampage like other man's wife. When the dark flag bites, hymns cease and millennia entomb; heaped heads, tented eaves, latest art in the desert souk. Shik-shak-shok. The sharqi goes. Flooring it to the rhythm of dunes, as fires spew snow into the vale of prunes. Chaos of magnets pirouetting a ride. Bomb them, when nuisance gets,  some hundred women, few thousand children, not bad price, securing the heathen trail. Shik-shak-shok. The sharqi goes. Veil the faithful, jail the ***** Chaos is hope. Kaleidoscopic, cathartic taupe. Riding the tiger, picturing a goat.
Creative destruction: but if you ride the abyss, the end is dark.
prabhu-iyer
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC
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