IX

[the ball of nearly dying yellow overtoned and enlivened performed something dismal under the cloud of giving rain. The warrant were stretched to the limits of election or just saying so. All grey of utmost vernal wind and rain had promulgated as far as any eye would see. Comments of generosity could be stretched until further reddening come the eve. Who were stifled but had tried a few stray daffodils, or something. The language created its own barrier. Come along, the ball is nearly rolling into interest!]

the associated Vikings, fresh from 1959, slew a few ready victims as of thursday instant. Commodious neurons, etc, sparked some debate as to whether indeed these rocky mainlands could truly play home to savage hordes of praying to rocklike gods. The Vikings were a topical effect starring Kirk Douglas and, somewhat slovenly, Tony Curtis. Via Tony Curtis we see then wife Janet Leigh,who stood for blonde in some maximum gesture. Tony stood for a place that belonged, however guilty in the eventual tide. Kirk reckoned on exact staying power, give or take. Bring up Ernest Borgnine and pull everything into familiar. Then dunk the candidate land. Taxes arrest. Lots of entered bollocks make meantime with the centre of the political carpet. So you mean to say something unto that main branch, elongated until lowering notes of the oscillating greatness, or plan therefor. Bring your church to the outpost, and let loose its mighty wails.