Message'O Attack

There's a message clear.

When I language, steer anguish with severe English.

Rare Amish fetish cause my arm twists for the devilish lettuce.

For levels lift.

I bevel, shift pencils as I pretzel- tryst with the Devil's kids.

Slow dental as I show mental digs.

Grown channeling rigs.

Known assembling this zone of special.

Guess no one's home for this celestial kid wrestling with the Devil's kids.

Addressing fears.

Depressing years of questing for peers.

Questioning the gears.

Let wing stressing for the best thing.

Pressing senses, ears sensing the census.

Left before the answers.