I'd scream hoarse wither without you, cornishrow pickle hens, iodide, what say you, the wench, Winnifred, colonel peanut butter and all-dies, all the men's horses of death, all the building up of nothing, all the energy in the sails, blackened sea creatures attached to guilty and becoming patients in lost wards, keepers of light, soft impression of magenta tears, blacklisted screenplays, glitter heels and sudden glitch, the disentanglement, utter and joyless, diving headlong into the fairway refrain, sandy bottoms with crooked goalposts from an Incan specter parade of lobules, pheasant breast the game's delight, what hath they done to me.