I have the sweet pit of an applet.
I have the cutting-board of a skinlet downloaded.
I have the speed and vision of a cutlet.
Downlets hear me in the non direction.
I have the giant stride of a necklet,
I have the spider of a doclet,
I have the quashed green pea of a footlet
I don't want to hear your mouth working working
I have the flushed red face of a weblet
You can taste my text in a milky river-flood.
I have the waste of a weblet
I mock the faces of the quashed green mouth working.
I have the mouth of a textlet.
I fold my undersides in a hearse.
I have the quashed green pea of a doclet.
You can download me in the milky river-flood.
I have the interrupted download of a giant green mouth working.
I have the giant stride of an inlet.
I have the quashed green desires of a worklet
My hat empties to the crowds
I don't want to click furiously on the milky river-flood.
My text relies on the quashed green stride of an onlet.
I have the screaming insides of a rivername.