Daisies pose darkly in the demises.
Damsels drink drought in ole tavern pubs.
As bards sing in bright sashes, they sing to the swans.
Samhain is coming to the pagans have landed.
Are there works so evil that you manifest upon them torrents of torture.
Trained trivial troglodyte’s trash tumbling tanks.
Airy arias and swift sonata’s sing clearly through meadows.
Bastardly bitches of baroque basted in butter build broken butlers.
Does not the sun raised in the heavens to meet me in the morn.
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