'Twas a joke, Quincy.
But really, they are horrendous. The dreadful instrumentation and screeching vocals meander into my poor, unsuspecting ear canals and progenerate an array of glutinous spores that subsequently mature into repulsive, minuscule hellhounds, which exist only to slither into and blitzkrieg my ossicles, causing abhorrent diarrhea of the ears. Figuratively speaking.
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Lock to field screen, row the ocean onto sentient ground.
New rites of a Vedic sun to attend the blue horizon.
Prevails flight resplendent, sails the shrine effulgent windship.
Stillness breathes apex supreme - I walk toward the mountain.
Crowns the sovereic rite to freedom.
Shored the origin forms to a ground accede.
Axiom core of the light shrine flight to shining.
Glows serene to attenuate the space and time.
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