But our Institute has days-off everyday almost,
an enormous count offa mind brakin' of any borders
bores already, cuz many of same worry stories
end witha pretext flowin' goes as mushrooms growin'
under the rain slow fallin' with lieing lips twisted to The North
and West at some separated words. I'm infest
as Ma ball's in boilin' wax and have to cope with it.
But they do nothin. Should I now bring waxy ball the Store to?