Your waterplants in a singing pocket, were dripping and rotting. My coat left outside, in the summer. The neighbour barked and rolled his g's, whining when it got stuck in its own throat, went on and on, rolls over with his song, and got stuck by the lead tied round the well, and pulled itself, bouncing back and forwards. I threw the last egg at it's head. It went to the toilet.
No comments:
Post a Comment