Argo

Argyle, gems prone forth a plain sect, texts passively affect an alone art style, bore jade in age of resentment, by dull senses we eased the recovery, gave sage blossoms in wait of obstinance but blessed before i could take, if i could thank it id just simply nod and wave away.
Sounds chase an audible depth pressed in time with these sentences, cents loose lodged along pocket lint, well get lost self indulgent on that laundry smell but soon forget where our ideal physche went with it.
Zeal feels out of normalcy, fiddle with no eyesight of the phsyical department, widdled is the will of an artist with no creativity, pardoned if the speech meets its point before its started, see?
Lethargic bard marks each seamlessly in thought longer than action auctioned by time straint, berated the same phrases restrained to tame presentation, caution ought to be is a living thing.
Morals convince on a singular industry, did they mean the third eye literally?