Until then

Death is over due, I've told ashes. The smell is empty electric and long since I am told the devil's dress suits us all. Overall. The chef hunted the pack insistent and clever. Flares the highest form of damnation as he collides. There is no cold since climbing. Through eyes, yes, maybe. Twice. Bend sound into the genome: there's undiscovered braille on the murder scene. And I like you because I found you with your hands dirty. Dodging cops. That's real work. They, themselves. I'm asking. Because rape the forest as instruction fit into a dead tongue. Chalk outlines the atmosphere for the most part. So let me get this straight, and then hung up. There are no goodbyes like tomorrow. The hardcore of her heart said it's so.