The clouds are pink today
The water is silver
My hands have become signpost
How is the light in your head?
Many Advil are singing
The death of the spoon was a great tragedy, I know
Please, I hope that all is well with corn
Ah, I do see how the dirt is now only plastic
Camouflage? No, only a big Shepard
Quiet the tile I presume
If the mailboxes keep raining I will be forced to eat chocolate pudding
Don't worry the pope will still dance
Indeed, when granite gave birth to Earl Grey, I was sure that we were through
Did you hear that too sweetest?
Your Well Known Stranger