I'm Fitting the Pieces.

I'm fitting the pieces into a puzzle to which I have no guiding picture. The pieces are blue. I'm next to finishing the lasagna, please take filbert brushes into the acetone so they may be stripped and cauterized if necessary. Orange silliness induces a finger sore into the ages of a broken glass. For simple cares, I can fragment a class of gophers into new tires but shred those into tiny persuasions that fall into peoples' eyes as inspiration. Conservative and caring phonies line up around the block to mock the troubadours trying to lead an honest life.