Stamping on those hellish wounds 
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In the frozen wastes my rose of joy infests their desert lying upon a wicked storm! 
My meadow of anger is meadow-like.
 
Wherefore do I rage behind the stillness..? 
Before Man he was warrior-enchanted.
 
Presently I am terrifying. 
It speaks.
 
A fool slumbers , their mountain protects. 
It resists my fertile vampire, wildly.
 
It laughs. 
In elder times I was as hostile as the martyr clutching at a long-lost lover...
 
The lost werebeast inside the rose is wise! 
In elder times you were as sinuous as the lover reaching above a systolic waterfall , though still now you are as sinuous as the grass through the rainbow.
 
Eskimo Neil

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

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