The deep leak heap of a giant steep kept me warm with angel heat. I took a leap with an eyesight peek at the yellow traffic wonderful creep. I folded the bold cold with an outdoor buttered stove. I saw and turned over a beautiful clover to sniff the aromatic odor. My shoulder had become a holder of a four leaf campaign voter. I wish to let you know, and then I'll let you go; never train nor gain pain by using powdered stain on your brain; only reign by tickling the sunnyside grain.
Written by: Patrick James Quaker
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