Never-never land

Never-never land is a slop brandy and slapdash up to the pole. Whoop whoop. It's raining flowers and other dimes. tejsh. The expectation of the rines in the package: THERE ARE NO FIFFIES IN RINGY LAND.

So then what did they do they took all their ready slams and dashed out to start a band. But there wasn't much Mittelwerk on their plates. Did this really FRAG them they did.

At the top of rub mountain there's a famed bee. Aged by seven seasons. Griddle-lock rust and all the smells of summer. Follow its instructions to the land of qilk and money. WHA -HOO?

I AM THE CRAB OPERATOR said the really wares and welawoos. Hills are diamonds of the mind. Blink, blink, fLASH fLASH. Snip. So I'm a retard so who cares did this not really gunch the funch runch. ON THE RANCH. Ranch sauce. Straight from the ranch.

Fixated around food I go like the time I ran a 23991 mile race on the ridiculous year of the Chinese Calendar. Year of the fig. Wa ding Zen. Zill zill and off we go.

SOoooo getting back on track, once there was a debt inspector with the Molly. Molly give me some of those old time candies. The risk-reward ratio on the econo-stock is a fleeting flask - dilly the dingos. Pokeman? The skillset you need to become a scissorlayer is no good for a bean. Don't forget the jobs XXX.

Is this edible? Can I eat this entire page? I'm not HUNGRY but I live in a WESTERN SOCIETY. But? No buts.

Here's the real truth: Never-never land = SOMETIMES LAND! It's a double negation!!!!

Lion find the cross wrench gallop gallop fast nast on the tall top big sticky risk pick. Girders for the new tomorrow that the sun throws up on a trampoline. Yowl, twist left. Wheelbarrow engineering never advanced past the single boot boot support.

So OK tuke the rising aristocracy with all a might. It's flunk time for the zenzies.

CAREFULLY CONSTRAINED COGNITION.

Love what is love baby don't hurt me with your high prostitute prices. Top up my zinger reserve. Quick quick to the ratmobile. I hollow. I sneaker. I fallow. I MEEKER! VERY MEEK. Rill rill. Half a flask didn't do no good to the farmer shame-shaved mollusk repast. Jeff Raskin and his river-floon interfaces of yester-morrow. Put 'em in the feline cannon.

Peter Pan is not allowed in this article because he didn't pay restitution to the Cap'n he seriously wounded with full intention. Method: hams. Nothing on the dark mountain. Several nevers and no high lice. It's gonna be a really garish time on the twelfth moon landing; moon lands on Mars w/ a Big Bang theorem.

KILLING FIELDS. They shouldn't name them that. Moralizing whilst some-BODY steals your potatoes. A DEAD BODY. Oh God and fisk fisk. Tsk rsk. Zed. Jacket rangos beautious banana-dug the whole hole to the dead eyes of the world.

Conclusion: people are incapable of doing anything well that doesn't put money in their pockets.