Draw within stubmlingblocks of concord, it's all in shambles so far from my towers of ivy, ivory hilted cretins on by brow and I did it in this time. Thyme and basil on my wounds a greek tragedy and I'm at it's center, the Drama Queen in regal dress, and I shattered, now I throb in a different pace, heavy and hard, quickened to feversish smiting
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