W. (Alone)

In the throat of our pussycat a demon had nested two glands. The money allows us to have the best infirmary in the city. Now we know why the death maul of W, the little siamese one, makes us fear for our lives. Dose weighed at 2 ounces per pint, the catsy cat of ours is now a real animal. It walks alone and chose right over wrong on all accounts this breakfast time. Our little honey tree grows because of the pussy healthy new take on sex. In Italy we bury the grey mitzy, a field mouse, an Erchiton, an experimentation gone blank, 2008, February the 3rd. The Galia tones up. Maximum incomes for the whole clan. Our rites now swift and assured make it ll to the shape and colour of our bed lamps as the bedlam of Alix in Wonderland serves the folly from our tribe from LOVE CITY. Fate finally frees the X-Lan, justice for a sacrifice, it` s time to dance! Order over more. The X-T` Laan, apologizes, the pear I burn and the pearl I saved at the peril of my rationality, 1993, went all dead there bang in a smoke once baby one, the furry cat snipped and prined blew in a cigarette, it has. People, alone.