The Horrible Truth We have been to the salty windows in a loft far away. The tension is scarce but I always felt sure. Basket skin went to a train roll call. In a hindering blast the peak willowed. Talk in the face of discrepancy turn close to a farm, boot filled over lettuce ice cueing on welcomed shop. Helping over a strange tong sea, vanished into a syringe of/for kettle engine. I witnessed the new way to satire the classic bean pulling horrible truth.. Was it the tree driven pinch or a simple apple soda? Time I wonder is it a calm fleet of textiles [of/for] or halo bitten seems to pillow cardboard. Whatever it is a saddle too long a pencil too strong.
Written March 6, 2001 Originally made for a published weekly Lesson Sheet I did at the time. It was a bonus at the bottom previous weeks included digital comics. 2001 Piemerica