May the guest be of invitation. A shirt is a statement of sorted relation. Masked with more than worn-out, a curious sort of wow, displays that entice the crowd.
The persons symptoms seem to say, I feel so lucky albeit a pace. People scramble to see the face, I wonder is there missing type that states the case?
The City fills up these halls, the board rooms seemed a little displaced, the courage it took to not walk away, I must admit, the strength in stayed, amazed me on that video replay.
Smiles worn, squished in scorn? couldn't tell, looked to the right and said 'oh,well' I guess it's good to know the Tell, that seemed so strange, almost like Hell.
The venture followed, the mirrored effect, a pin to show, the lonely room, the poolside venue, no laughter boomed, do you have the resources for, these flights that seem to be ignored?
Not that I worry, I am like a mouse, I just was curious about the tout, that is pictured upon wherever you're found, seems as if you're making a signaled route.
Really, it's just a question that I won't hear, the answer is, yours to fear, after life seems to cheer, upon your chest I see it clear: Wondering?
No Contest.
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