A swazzling froth of orchestral swishousness - a slaptotic crust of crystalline empast - all the while, the dark ranges of Gilbert's glittering Gewandhaus timps, sumping and muzzled by their gorgeous twee.
Fizzled gurns and drewbewous fried puffs of poetic cream - Sound Songs murbling as the stumptuous strings winged their slooze with grace across a rapt Royal Albert.
Yet, in those Final, creosote Moments - We see Ourselves - reflected, spastic and knee-capped - before the Final Truth of Our deciduousness - as Beethoven's silent sobs boom into a cadenced trimimbiendissimo - and the throttle of our drip is turned to pork bate - We see, at last, the hushédness of luboubrient Stars!
Fizzled gurns and drewbewous fried puffs of poetic cream - Sound Songs murbling as the stumptuous strings winged their slooze with grace across a rapt Royal Albert.
Yet, in those Final, creosote Moments - We see Ourselves - reflected, spastic and knee-capped - before the Final Truth of Our deciduousness - as Beethoven's silent sobs boom into a cadenced trimimbiendissimo - and the throttle of our drip is turned to pork bate - We see, at last, the hushédness of luboubrient Stars!
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