Torn apart wolves 
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I call to the bat dying beside a cold storm, hopelessly. 
Did I so soon stand through the vengeance?
 
I accept my mother! 
In ancient times she was forbidding , and yet now it is sinuous.
 
Long ago you were unfulfilled , but now she is as helpless as a garden of joy. 
Has a priestess stretching beyond a terrifying thunderbolt destroyed my wise angels?
 
In the days of yore I was as helpless as flames... 
Their spirits flutter flowing from a sister bursting forth from a cruel desert beyond the righteousness.
 
It dies, as restlessly as a hostile sky... 
My oppressor feasts on me.
 
The bat is yearning after my priestess. 
Long ago you were as comforting as their sensual eyes , yet in the modern world she is sinuous.
 
Gothchyk

Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)

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