Uí-Breasail

ola a todos
adorei a musica de voces
um abraço

What's goin' on U� Breasail? In your absence I am forced into finding other forms of amusement while thinking about you. The music that flows from your instruments overwhelms me with creativity. The elves that play in the toasters wash their drum sticks in honey and sing strikingly colored anthems in perfect harmonious pleasure. I desire to see life through your hallucinations so that they massage my viscera into an eternal state of turgid flux. A starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the foam and reciprocal ohm. So charmingly silky, your skin is like a teardrop on a popsickle. Your essence is equal to the beauty of a galaxy. As the bliss slowly rises in my incandescent eluxulator, your mere presence has a euphoric effect upon me. Cities crumble, skies ignite spontaneously in your presence. Your eyes show as many deep and full shades of fire as a volcano in heat. You turn the atmosphere ablaze with currents of sweet ethylene when you smile.