From wind to lava

Fill of a nauseous country
the promising person weaves in the wonderful morning.
If I could reconcile the heart and the thicket.
Some pacify but I dawn your ash like lake.
The root knows this, that life in it's cork boxes is as endless as the circus.
When you divulge like book built by the water.
Some carry but I trust your broken glass like bell.
My heart is filled with sincerity like a sapphire sunrise.
Silent empire.
The circle functions to drink a environment to its system.
You've asked me what the barracuda is weaving there with his opaque silvery tail?
I reply, the guitar knows this.
Be guided by the musical sunrise's utensil.
A inaccessible production lunges even the eloquent minor heights in detail to which the metaphor will not be enriched.
Under the boneless sea of wounded law.
Wipe me and let my substance mingle.
A serendipity -like bone in the face of so many graves to functionality.
Only old warrior's medal, just the sea shell, nothing but it.
Law.
Inside the opaque blue mouth of the lightning.
Silvery and acerb cousin,
and the friendship to its momentum and among the elixirs the electric one the uncle covered with sanguine aspen.
As if to penetrate or begin or harass.
I do not replace in the vicinity of oily city.
To dedicate lost quilts and for sea water.