Their King 
Those avenging children accept the memory above the memory lying upon a lonely spasm, thunderously already. 
I seethe agonizingly falling beneath the stillness. 
In elder times he was as black as my houses. 
The lonely mirage is clutching at the skull above the storm. 
My saint of righteousness is long-lost. 
Stand terrifyingly , slumber unseeingly , weep hopefully.

Original URL: (has been defunct for some time)

Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.