Word Salsa #263

This is postmodern deconstruction, but it ’southern fried’. I skin of rain!
I pray! Better than a horde of greed was changed their thousands of us living things were the end of struggle with my heritage For all you fell to light, and then the palms, the moon.

Because we release the screen!

I made it down like titles, preferring ambiguous charades.

She wrapped In that Texan Indian and shout, all of families and smug look Like her!


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