heavens but it's vague as all anything around this poor noggin right now bath chaired and tartan blanketed gin in the afternooned orchid drowsed like some chandler dodderer like some pier sheltered dearie like how old mal plays this...
mal waldren - warm canto
'In a brown study'. That's what Conan Doyle would have said.
Lovely music. Nothing like a warm canto.
I tell you what I can't abide though. A chilly aria. Nothing worse.
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