Once when the lager were carrying their coats
in the sultry swemult of laggon’s presence,
in the swarthy simult
of essence itself.
Let us just say,
condense it to primulfigance,
leave it homing,
as the harrial is cresting to the himult
and the sweevers are weaving,
lasoming, hanging helpless in
swammance itself.
Oh swammance!
Oh swammance!
