I have loathed my impish reverence for all that had been revoked.
Those ludicrous resurrection with the sense of not so indelible.
Have one gone zany?
By the incessant reveille drumming my notion of impervious distinct?
How will an existence attain the needs which had been proven none could cease?
While the insured nothing grimaced the non sensical "pellagra" slew by the things?
Well as I stride to make everything perfect, it just turns into a mess.
Neither a solemn haul of gale as this grim inadequacy take over,
Which had retained my frolic whim.
I had been summoned,
The successors should've been fools, as I am one.
For I had deceived the guillotine by its quaintness and frailty.
