this, is a poem I would like to call mist in the water written by Darryl Monkman august 16. 2014 Six years before the start of world war two, the sky was screaming and they already knew. Within the years to come the deeds have been done, Adolf Hitler and the Nazis have had their. in the years later as they were fun for the Sun, while at this time in Canada, for her rain, she bled none. Now really was it the Sun or maybe for that hunn. Who really is to blame, while injecting the mist it is done without shame. they do it for love, or rather they have been taking early on, we live it just as they did and still do, for the ray of the mist, our teeth are the bond. as the energy flows breath in through your nose, for one day the air will be what we war for it has never been about hoes. so what is the mist as you might ask, read, read and read again, it is the mist at the tip of the flask. we are hear now for she has set us free, just know she has always looked for that escapee. like I said read it once again, for soon you can see and answer your own question. as for me my blood shall always be, for what I have found come evolve like me. it is love, that spiritual feeling that tickles the spine, it beats with the rythme of the heart while sending electric current through the mind. I changed the subject or have I now, I said evolve so quit rapping those cows. so when you look back and read, do you see a breed, the timing, who started when, and who is in lead. well my time is now and for thee I stand, listen now for years and years we have planed. I said it must be done to hear the one, we stand for all when can we have our fun. fun might not be what we all really need, for sure we can ask for help from the mist brought to us by this breed.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 15:39:51 +0000
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