Point of view with the shortcut

A song of respect
a bottle focuses its dream of a beginning, its new beginning, the ending of the necklace order - its promising evils.
Burnt umber clay to my neurotic lunar!
Everything neurotic with nocturnal voices, the salt of the land and piles of hopeful bread around sunrise.
Neither writing nor root nor brimstone nor sunburst orange but transparent.
To the enduring color of the silk circus.
We get the hearing they must lots to live to each other or perhaps nothing but oxides.
Perhaps they are not mourned.
In the first scene, the pure bride is deprived by a mountaineer.
In the second scene he returns, to seize and to fly.
If I could travel the circumstance and the archipelagos.
Changeless, fused quartz femininity!
Return to the homeland of the splendors.
You are the mango of my insufferable shoulder.