This is the time in space before were there.
I hoped to had the physics but none.
Still giving up on Earth, ol rocking chair.
That mothball smell of why and left right here.
But still cant this tired place or wide awake, or tired place.
Generation of the ill to not be cured.
My brothers rubbing paste on his face, quibblers waste, oh so tired of sheets.
Though before all at once, some of twice, heard hearts timer riddle.
I dont know how to say Ill lead you there, admitting peril was the key before.
Were all such me solipsism millionaires.
How would I like these words to save your life.
But what would you need saving fro or maybe its our android art?
The wipe of household dust to make a sneeze.
Ears open for the next one.
Older brother states, sis will see its crumbling.
Nor more mouth with paste, stabled horses will ride.