CloudCutCut

So I ask, is there any vivacity in the vicinity? Or is such elasticity in sin inimically Opposed to our task And repose a sweet flask Which metes out a stinging hangover I’m singing slang over beats To wring out Hectar’s nectar Which wrung Hell’s Bells in our sector I fell on hectars of papyras flyers So I just adjusted the directions of the vectors intersecting our irises. My wish is To leave the crowd shrouded in a Cloud of Unknowing …