The Droilage like Mintruit Flay

Let the frost lay upon the droilage like mintruit flay.

Go trick finthen candle with notley fair play.

Then mine out bintenderline over then say,

Sixteen red huggintry sick as a mintruit tree

Light as tendenrable malice lice flay.

I haven’t yet colorent gloriouslessly droil

Mixed up all tellers wisk bouldering oil,

So lay mine to tricker tree, minding the soil.

I’ll crusholtry topper call with my epply and all,

Tossing gin backwards then thraking the droil.

Crops squeaking hazel threads clouds to cloud joy.

The men grow the women and by poultry toy.

Vegal loss holomoss bandoning boy,

My summering teening thing, go hit a slum ball.

I’ll stall the nature all trigger tree joy.

People tell me to try flaying the suitable earth,

Place sixteen burrow peth straight to the firth,

And make no mistake over thinking your birth.

Her, over ladle twist, mixing what made me a boy.

I, just the mind enough, thift paying earth.

Prost poster shadow most higgendy pride.

Alive but not haunted from thought to thick stride,

Cricketted arm-phone-sent starberry side.

Can’t handle candle late, can’t flay the mantellerth.

Musterplug droil dry Daddy’s old pride?

I sink between audience flow-tinder nest soul.

It’s face after face of light clomb cootle coal

With protacted total as tall as the toll.

Done went crimbenzen sky, bolden strut mute.

Carry mine hinder thread, hazel-black soul.