Campen van beet oven

The beat and sweat of violins corralled in a corner by the rest of the standing sound

All headache in the milliwave, where hares did gyre and mumble

And the vorpal blade cut and cut and showered blood in arcs that made patterns on the lesser regarded concrete walkways in the barbican centre

Late nineteen thunth century anally full English retrograde argument, has snipe nosed empire detectives wet in ache, sole in answered squint, like magnified tobacco has any relevance, case solved, the arse did it