Iceland says no. ( the aftermath of the wedding)

Furtive with the bliss. Chutes flow down to an abattoir of souls. Lapsed clauses and foul mistakes - Brighton burned my town and made off with all the people.  The now Shattered indulged peddling their wares with Stale cheaps and bits of corpse. The glimmering knife that tore. Foul feels in hefty places.   MB