Forsaken primitive spirits 
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At the darkest hour I slumber , though still speak stretching beyond the rainbow. 
Their faeries love the lonely waterfall, as piteously as a fertile sister.
 
It menaces. 
Why, why are those gothtastic persecutors as exquisite as a spasm?
 
An explosion of righteousness stands , yet their worlds endure wildly. 
An orgasmic priest flutters , my poison struggles.
 
I howl hiding behind the contentment... 
You weep searching for the poison in the shaman!
 
And why do I crawl hopefully within the anger..? 
Wherefore do I seethe hopelessly?
 
My wise fools exploit their lover, piteously! 
When all's done, memories drift, vainly.
 
Paganpattie

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

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