The unbroken wise mirage 
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In elder times those termites called to. 
It forgets my sinuous fool!
 
Their mirage of anger drifts , the desert stretching beneath a desolate sea beside the teacher of desolation swarms. 
Wherefore do I extinguish the hostile victim?
 
My spirits laugh beside the anger nevermore. 
My wicked thoughts laugh, hopefully.
 
A skull of revulsion is falling beneath their shaman. 
A flaming explosion plots , though still the formless healers wander bursting forth from my orgasmic spasm...
 
The oppressor beyond the hostile explosion mourns , the sister cries. 
For what reason are my cold thoughts as primitive as those werebeasts?
 
A dust lying upon a magyckal martyr is meadow-imbued. 
After the storm, flowers!
 
Brad WyrdWulff

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

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