Elephants of doom tiptoe menacingly around toadstools of forgotten kings.
Alas! the aardvark cries: but not for joy. Edentate cousin of elephant shrew and elephant, ask not for whom the hyrax shrieks: it shrieks for thee.
If a million mushrooms sprang from a million stumps in a million forests, would a woodchuck chuck wood?
Pale parabolas of muted joy sprout inverted ailerons while gyres of untamed dream sing nightsongs of flightless birds and you'd think they'd have at least covered his face but there is no accounting taste, for the proof is in the pudding and in veritas vino veni vidi vici which sounds funny if pronounced the way mighty Caesar would have spoken for but someone took it anyway there is none but the lonely heart of aortic attraction dispelling the shades of forgotten stones that roll and gather no moss.
Does Morris Quigly dance with Eleanor Rigby?
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