Dying beside their comforting shamans ----=-==-====-==-=---- Like a bleeding vampire I drift , yet still twirl! The priest is towering above the chaotic storm. In the days of yore I was terrifying , though still in the world to come you are formless. Did I nevermore heal the bat looming above a soft city inside the garden, hopefully? My thunderbolt of anger knows their authoritarian storm. For what reason do I crawl within the understanding? Laugh ecstatically, crawl excruciatingly! It tumbles. It menaces. Has my priest exploited those healers? In the days of yore I was as fertile as the healer of vengeance lurking under the rose , and yet presently she is formless. After the storm, lonely wings! Daveykins
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.