I am a wilted flower of that I can claim, I pulse out the idea the previous day, let it me flow in early morning. Quiet time in silence, the rest of it needs to end. Old people who won’t let go of the pile plays on my mind, I’ll have a human size rabbit warren kitted out with solar panels high in the trees, hang on what about a treehouse. Your caravan make sure it is big enough for I will take up residence in it mwah, mwah.
And for the hell of it in Shakespearean, bring on the Bard…
I am a wilt’d floweth’r of yond i can claimeth, i pulse out the idea the previous day, alloweth t floweth in early m’rning. Quiet timeth in silence, the rest of t needeth to endeth. Fusty people who is’t wonneth’t alloweth wend of the pile plays on mine own mind, i’ll has’t a human size rabbit warren kitt’d out with solar panels high in the trees, hangeth on what about a tree house. Thy caravan maketh sure t is big enow f’r i shall taketh up residence in t mwah, mwah