Inward seam, is it correction knight, two prongs short of a six magpipe pipe smoke song?
A lesson won, yet seer, it two morcels shy of a stick and an old man, with a rub right nose finger wept swept?
A kid backflown tear, now the prophecy again, the aunt dead to a cup of tea?
A whistle crying brave, yet the morcel prophecy, is it another mission two staives short of a pick?
A line snot, the rabbi is back again for a secret sty, two lessons sheltered yet the sign lobsided to the beak.
A little love, green a dove, yet a sniff, the old man knows better, a sheltered weave or eye creepy, old woman fume to the death ice-cream van. A bit of scarbourogh’s fair or greensleeves, or just something out of tune, with a mix up chicket wings bucket?
Is the seer two eyes pry, or can we staive another win, twice shy, yet a sniff, the clown the rabbi snot brushes two stems hem?
A little parcel nightmare crow, five missions now to the know. Secret missions the witches whisle for the rabbi heel a litte look back, and the line up is salted to a kid’s kick toe?
A silent crow, the fourth mission sly, the witches whistle and the hunt begins.
Eyes butchered maze, now the seer, the final working two steps up, or a little finger rub a dish two smart for a lick?
Seven ticks too far, the seer is stripped blind, for a second mission, yet the Rabbi has two tricks for one rabbit hound quick?
A sleezy finger meal, two eyes pyring slight, two missions dusted, yet nine to the pidgeons freeze?
So, you want to run this one, with the witches secrets?
Or want some professional seer job, a little kid, with an aunt and cant, two chops for a sant?
The rabbi knows, it’s two plucks dry, and one to a snotty kid, in the know how fire.
A little lesson seventy odd holes to the maze, seven killed for a hound, and a sharpened loom to sixty two old soon. A sharpened gaze, yet a polo shirt, is it a Sila with a hound and sniff? Safety witchcraft again twice pyre, or sniff, the weapon, hunted for the mission tire?
A little snot, lesson’s beat, swipe the shirt, the stain fifty euro to the pound, and seventy for the odd translators sound.
Forteeth morcels to the cave, a staive off tune and a save.
So, the seer is yours, I have more angels pyring breath that a shadow heel flex brave.
Tilt your lessons to the witchcraft’s slitch, six to the hound, and a winning pound per lesson found.
A sniff eye glitter cane, the kid can whirl a back-glance fame, and the cane butchered across the shoulder one eye sweep?
What is your prophecy for tomorrow’s game?
A shelter weave, or two cannon’s short of a slot?
Get your wings, in chime. Port-rush, a slot a penny for a mix, two shit bins, and seventy to the mark.
Do not add the tender till, till the bounty serves twice shy will.
A snot for seven eyes, or a wicked punch, for a lowly figure.
It’s a one finger zoom tomb, yet twice to the morcel, and nothing left over but a hunt hound flex.
Twice shy woven slair
or one the witch to the bounty cane pair?
A little lick, the carriage found, is it a servant in a mission rewound.
The carriage flirt, King David pyre, one foot up in lost carriage tire, or a waiver too quick a servant with crutch, a forgotton memory, and the clutch too soon hutch? How quick does two servants back-carriage tire, or seven to the twice lick know? An angry push in a servant ware, or an audience a push up, and all the back, a complaint to the second a servant flair?
A nosey hookup, seventy taps per giant care, yet a sniff, the hand caught even crow, and safety a memory folded bow, or just a sniff, a servant in know, twice shy, yet the magpie flies.