the aim of balance



there is a great tired fare report from the other newest one. the memory
package record was released just the next day after it falls together. it was as
if the flies meet cape slave of tomorrow, thinking that a chronic state is
inevetable. it seems like statements were seemed like the last tape bits of
what sounded like that you were vaugely like there is nothing to say, it's hard
to say really, in one way or the other way down to earth, general points of view
is like drving along talking twice all the way through with other people it was
the interaction a journey, wheels sounded really heavy in your mind carry on a
conversation and still drive no ambition to, it is very cold with coffee birds are
waking up. he tries any master bone, suddenly filled likely important to keep
up the good work. clean my tap. that is not all that is good, for instance flies
starve, slow pathetic that i found, but but what about the fresh start for us all, i
could really go for some pasted visuals on to it. if that is all that matters then
let's not forget the flat number, but that's all for now. what do you think about
when you're in bed at night? are there dreams that come to you in the night?
move to the view of the standing pod, all is for the root to follow. quietly for
the time of being still, next to the fading shadows. standing wave accounts for
the single most cause. more essential than the remaining few, only to become
like the rest. there's more to it than that, just look at the whole thing. as
through the guise from the other side, a pass can extend rather than turn.
between all that there is, the last chance of eventual release. a new place to tie
to,a new rope to tie with. of the changing kind, like i have never seen before.
scraping along to provide an aural representation. crawling darts rustle in the
clutter of a crowded corner. of the darkened path that everybody talks about, but
nobody knows of..... as to all that is shot from the barrell. the whispering head
yells at the screaming flap. struggling through gel, for that is all that is left.
spill on the horizon, except for the new one. try to make the needle pass a few
doubts along the way. secure part "a" into the correct slot "b". what does it
look like, if not what it is? not to be duplicated. stitch the line of time. is it, or
isn't it? within, without an opposing replyto the most similar interest. it is to
be molded, as into that which breaks. the aim of balance, not only that but
more. leaning towards the linoleum, as if it ever could be reached.