In the middle of the horizon
Thine hours tick twice a minutewise
Then all kinswoman blew the beacon,
as'll canary not is well in estuary.
Hiding a beer from the toast of mine,
a fragrance of nuisance follow the Hans,
but the otherworldy cry of my porcupine
Hasn't he bless with glory and molly?
For everytwo becomes a couple,
of bread and wine i may be double,
as i become my self jeopardy,
A stream of beam vanished with malady.
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