Their razor ( A sonnet by The Vampire Darren ) ----=-==-====-==-=---- My wounds roam in the righteousness. In ancient times she was healed. And why are those ravings thunderbolt-ish..? In ancient times they were unfulfilled , yet still in the world to come he is as misunderstood as persecutors. Have those people accepted those lost raindrops? Has the sky scratching at the rainbow feasted on wings? My gothtastic razors twirl lying upon my King yearning after a mysterious fool... Suddenly, it all changes; their temple of loneliness slumbers. I seethe... Long, long ago it was orgasmic , yet now he is as formless as their tears. Those memories howl far beyond the contentment... Have their stupid stormclouds destroyed knives? In ancient times it was remembered -- but from now on it is unmade... Their dust stands , though still those fingers seethe terrifyingly. You call to the warrior hiding behind the dragon lying upon a fertile wasteland, soundlessly. In the end, a healer seethes.
Original URL: jbrowse.com (has been defunct for some time)
Wayback Machine Archive. The original Ruby code can be found there as well.