Particle bombed skeleton

I am a changed person, disbursed of purse concerns and content with the wind change of the coal burn
Taciturn are the returns which hold history’s urn entombed in earth deferred
No matter who the king is, sing praises of waists deep in red glazed blazes
The clay apex traipsed tasteless to cater basal waste whim as the red tape laces
Inside boundary, crowns design wound wounds from downed runes to ultrasound fumes
Scab injury grounds to resign or a sign of profound rue, instead unbound accrual
Frankenstein’s man cave, the hand that fanned graves teleconferences conclaves
Conch raves, a body of stark arches and horse trains, a last grenade reinforced upgrade


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