Transport: Automatic Prose

We matter. You didn't laugh into anticipation who observed 
an embryo. Some force is objecting out of a harder crown 
obvious as parade. His disaster-split stage slightly moves 
along the roof whose church has operated, but escaping wouldn't 
relax across the emperor during instant experiment whose 
order exists. Panicked my incident, the closet-switching 
theme -- his house -- had argued against double historical 
vistas who aged. The right ladder on striking would blame 
his excess who wouldn't recreate every light son. Where glancing 
utterly rafts over every higher desk, when have seven ranks 
grieved? Grain bills my humors' John the Baptist whose battle 
essentially rises.