Monday, August 31, 2009

Joy, let Jesus praise he as he is God Almighty


Feinin sang, to took his time honoring duty at a time way past his future. God listened, she spoke quite fondly of the days ahead, the glory and purpose of time... to dream the impossible, and to get answers so simple that the Pharaoh could remember.

Live is not about who you think you are, but who you are you thinking of. She fought the tears, they ran down his cheek, he yelled at the mirror, What happened Dad? Why does this women cause me such pain?

Hail Schiller, Lord of magic, King of fortune, Raise him high where eagles see the king to be...

Feinin learnt the truth, he began to fade, stooping low past at the disgust, the rage that this women made. So they cheered, they wiped their ass's clean, the wonder of God is supreme. Stop talking as if you know..............your child has reason to forget, Let no miracle edge him

He saw the fire that consumed his dream, they fought, they shouted obscenities. Strangely Feinin was silent. What he remembers is this, Smashing into a tree, his feet got caught, he was bleeding. God if you think he is alive, why not tears. Feinin remembered days before, the white dove that he saw, clawing at his eye, he bled droplets of himself, free surfing the seas alone in victory.

Feinin completed most of his task, he obeyed the commands of God. She had regretted his power to think beyond man. The week began as it ended...Sad, alone ashamed of love. Please Father in heaven, I am told his Lord has risen.....In the times of the Bible.

Feinin was not taken, he knew that the Mighty Power had returned, carrying the knowledge of all mankind.

Death, Schiller is above all in a world that sees hate, famine and disease. Lord how dare he say....The moment was near, Arty Nose trick him over, he fell laughing at the timepiece. Liston the me fools, give him all that is required, spend no more on regret. Schiller is never returning to a place so damn in hell.

God you tell me that her Majesty agrees, a word that meant so much to her, obligation to one's land. This was the moment of truth. It began on a Saturday.

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