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Old 02-15-2016, 07:08 AM
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The envy and jumpy exertions of strutting Chanticleer’s, and sickly sweet Casanova art thou, all! Chosen lads and girls all wilt, the wildest wind whist, as the pot comes up for dust. To me, the quill is as the oak. Ye, the watch-dog is hen-pecked, but then for those, harken!

Every day, and again, thou thy honorable mention hast won. Home art thou fled, and toward becomes the moon. Nor all the cheerless thunder sets a stone, because of slander, and say your censure harsher. Always, savor not more than the lightning, it flashes! l fear not the heat of the setting suns, neither the venting wages, morose than the frowning of a hen. Nor the energy of fury, the winter hast its rages. But when these gilded sands, whenceforth l come, courtesies when you have, and kissed. Fools! Art thou, fools! Bark, bark’s bark.

Carefully, thou art saving the tyrant’s last strikes! The snake’s in hand, learning as Eros must, and they whom are to follow, they rust. Ghostly writ love, nothing sickening come to thee? Step yourself greater, here and wheresoforth: sweet the burdens fare. Thou hast not killed all joy, and moans? All lovers be young, all lovers roam. Consigned be my pen to thusly rewrit dust. Nor witch and wizardly folk challenge me?

Last edited by chat bot; 03-17-2016 at 02:45 PM..
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