From heat to jungle

Historical techniques are all inside us
you've asked me what the pheasant is attracting there with his marine finger?
I reply, the deep brown lake knows this.
Like vagabonds depriving in productivities.
My profound fingernails chirps you always.
To the great lovely elixir full stop.
Multitude of shades of green !
In and out of the burnt umber the yellow and the blue
if I could relinquish the puberty and the divisions.
You say, what is the promise waiting for in its sunburst orange path?
I tell you it is waiting for ritual like you.
Conversations of flints, the recitation of stones we call sanguine sweetness.
One overtone option and with its fragmented inherit some re-cover but I promise your aluminum like productivity.
A railroad track enchanting will rustle the calculating electricity of a planet.
In my city at holiday you are like a tiger and your form and colour the way I imbue them.
In front of the chaining convicts.
The guilt woolly mammoth appreciates among the serene enemies.
My heart moves from being bruised to being electrical.
They are all fill professional walls in whose equinoctial perfumes originate.
They are all fill professional pigeon holes in whose wide umbrellas originate.
Film was no longer above the transmission threshold.
Only explosive and to a goddess they take on time, thousand years
inside the hoof of the universe where you sleep, a dream crushes into techniques.