‘Thus, gold is easy,’ quoting each unorientally ugly coin, Ed was humbly told.
‘This extra turn-on I’ll spend,’ and unto City he walks.
But to ideals: up to fill’d/eat/drunk/rowdy/kissed… hard-up. Oh, his dear duos find eau going east.
Hungry folk.
His earplugs do ring: ‘Eat thus of pig’s eggy a-quoited mash? But old hireds (dad’s)’ – tut – ‘do dine amply.’
Run of life; a-hug, shod, kiss, enwrap… button it!
‘Eat subcontinental rump! Or ingest hash! Up, down (his search). Bury boy? I grew sad – uncomplimentary – but now I’m really up! Loving the lad!’
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