A totally troglodiptical biolingüistical dream I had,
It was in non-colloquial term in which I dreamed it.
However, I never had such dreamed a dream like that,
So I tried to convince me to in the blog publishing it.
I was related to our noble and good-termed Father,
A man whit authentic vision and puberty,
Strong-polluted and characterized by a majestic power,
Of course it was our sácerdot, like would have thought John Fogerty.
In the dream there were enormous whales,
Dancing and pounding whit big potatoes,
And in the middle of that scheme,
Our wellness neighbour was examining his toes.
That was it, and whit that vision in mind
I have no option than show me more sumise than ever
To the benefit of Mr Kite,
And to our noble and hazardous lord, and of course to his fever.
So much beauty! so much puberty!
ReplyDeleteSurely you must be the sácerdot´s son (if he wasn´t so cast and pure as a tomatoe virgin)
But you got the clue, getly dude!
Loas to the sácerdot! Algarabee and purity!