THEE, THEE, THEE mahk flooors pore reeer, thah noose eem rakd. And all physicality is poesy to demanding flesh. Heavenly visions of gentle rats with pink noses. We are served by machines making satins of sounds. Each blot of sound is a bud or a stahr.
Body eats bouquets of the ear's vista.
Gahhhrrr boody eers noze eyes deem thou. Nah droooooh seerch. Whan eecethoooze hrohh. THEE thah thow me. Thooreeeeeeee nrosh tooo oor tow.