fat albert was shot to death

what else in new on the shelf, chilling in the hot box of an anxiety of dubiety, the madness of Petula Clark’s angelic back up vocals for the choir of farts, her vocals so sweet with love for Sir, shrink wrapped in this illusion, this movie’s conclusion, broadcast in the illiteracy of founding fathers who raped, pardon for crimes committed to the ideals of democracy, questions such as whether I love myself, or should one blow steam in the face of the beast, the evolution of a disheartening experience this welcome wagon of deceit powered by the immigrants one meets, these alleged commonalities, or vulnerabilities so numerous, few are discussed, mostly in disgust, denials of this animosity of our fate do you have faith in the duplicity of this horn of plenty, shooting Negroes for sport in the cul de sac of ferguson is that a show tune another in the unending series are there ever any indictments after the inquiry of an all white jury, this house of representatives,

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