If we sang in the wood (and d**h is a German expert) while snows flies, chill, after so frequent knew so many all of nothing, for lead & fire, it's not we would a**ert particulars, but animal; cats new, horses scream, man sing. Or: men psalm. Man palms his ears and moans. d**h is a German expert. Scrambling, sitting, spattering, we hurry.
I try to. Odd & trivial, atones somehow for my escape a bullet splitting my trod-on instep, fiery. The cantor bubbled, rattled. The Temple burned. Lurch with me! phantoms of Varshava. Slop! When I used to be, who haunted, stumbling, sewers, my sacked shop, roofs, a dis-world ai! d**h was a German home-country.