The Hyperion of tides.

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We search and for the bottom of the sea. In a glass the narrow we. A pictured swamp delirious. To amend a strange place. Of dire consequence the hence whence. Fenceyard dictatorship blues. In a priority of none. The rigid congruence of such a dinner. Make haste for these splendid winners. Money in the pocket. Up her bereaved backyard. The dialectic insolence of your clever guard. A reason steady she breaks. The lead of plenty as she aches. A learner's word take place. These are the dreary nights. Shifting gaze. The golden variety of maids. To an adored pity's sake. A trigger happy thief and his release. He is going to the land of plenty. Courteously the distant dream. A cloud nourishes him. A sifting grace. The courteous hand that held. Gone windy haze. A pictured clown. He sheds a tear for the lying crowd. Then whom begets death in treacherous eyes of deceit. The victim is deep. His tender heart grieves. Shadows are for men. Ease. The pious emerald in his colt. Bares insolence. He drives harder. For each pardon. The grass is wet. He gets what begotten may. By all means make my day. The soft horizon weighs. The bank's a drop ahead. He swears to achieve his dollar purse. The days of said a wet nurse. These of done. The call of none. Robbed most gently by a man alone. The blanket reads red. Two faced head. A toll of merry men. At the hazard steep and narrow. A cliff of tides break. He swarmed to please her. Now the heaps are straight. A dissolved into oblivion as he wakes. He meets me at the gates. The higher stakes. I pleased him with my takes. A whiff of head's tale. He shouldn't run. The wind mires. The dead are gone.