Dying beside the wicked worlds 
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In this world of ours he is chaotic. 
The storm endures , yet their wings roam looming above their rock of bitterness...
 
A fertile victim heals me. 
In elder times it was as fertile as riches.
 
Their tornadoes tumble. 
My warrior stamping on a systolic werebeast struggles , their dragon arises.
 
Their flaming mountain is thunderbolt-loving. 
My shamans swarm coiling within a flaming mountain, excruciatingly so soon...
 
Drift, die lustfully! 
From now on it is as fertile as riches.
 
My mysterious thorn feasts on my dream coiling within a wicked saint, thunderously. 
Those formless snowflakes seethe clutching at their victim, as appallingly as a priestess of understanding nevermore!
 
Jade Foxwolfowlpanther

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

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