And the Entire Fools, Will Have Faces in Splouch.

I see you fully now. Depending upon Electronics, instead of Consciousness, you have. A mere Fatal attempt, at retaining what was never yours to begin with.

Disparaging Words only muttered in silence about, you are, all haste, and never any can do. You sit, and wait eagerly, for the next blipping myself in front of you, while never knowing the inside of anything, primarily your own brain of Consciousness.

Devious haughtiness derived many souls ago have you, as plans tear asunder the nighted sky, all around you, your tears cry, shattering asunder, as dried leaves of Winter morn.

Oh alas, all bull berry stopped, driving hurriedly across deaden seas to lay a weary has been jubilee, as falling trees lay wreaths upon the sea.

Years come and go only to bemoan, the life that never was, now they, cry upon false thrones, ever beckoning the thunderous rip tide, of the washing river that runneth under and bye.

Here comes the dawnly Morn, heavenly sent and righteously adorned. Contented upon the sacred flames Ray, brusselling pandering upon Mother Earths Core they.

She says to I, it has been a long way, as you and only me, have found the place to pray. Prepare your inner child for the dawns to come, that are soon to be here, forever to be spun.

Oh yes, this is all true, and more beyond any implore, now those that have forgotten will either bloom, or fade away, and off again born for the drama play.

One day with awake it will be, and a new day never to be seen before thee. Patience virtue only for waning not, little bit longer, and the entire fools, will have faces in splouch.

Let them have their fun, before hard labor is to begun, for then they will dance with no music, and eat with no food, the rusting away of their Cowardly diced plots.