Blahg

The clouds passport is a rainbow with golden drops of rain. The dogs sleep in the shade by the brush, with a yawn King of the beasts on this rugged savanah. The dreams drab, no more luminosity, the lucid girls are gone hooking up with some other dude. The sneaky proposition disappeared on the wings of a raven, a better deal by some other sorcerer I bet. The closed will soon be open and the opened now will soon be closed, light moves with us even in darkness. The sweltering dry and rivers trickle, no more run-off, on more icey cold wet, no more minnows, the ducks are in flight and the naked nymphs vanished with the shade, a few flowers spared and the wind still harasses everything. Born under the sky, emerald princess, reflection into pure magik bliss.