> Chord it in, air beated fenn. Aurous to the Pan, mimic and bold. As it steep, chunns at the bun. Keive the dells, the stars to run. No wane, all gleam, in big das brund. Sky high, stout in the hale. Woods to fetch, flied in the low.
I think all that talk of music pushed Chaz into some kind of trance and it just started jamming!
I think all that talk of music pushed Chaz into some kind of trance and it just started jamming!