Xanthus, Prokoptas, pablum, pandering philistines, obtuse potentates!
Art! ART! Narcissus-X and art! Art not naught for nattering nabobs of nihilistic nincompoopery!!!
Sing toot, sing poot, sing rooti-toot-toot. Sing on the corner for pfennigs and pence, sing till the tiger shall sit on the fence.
Narcissus-X broods.
Brooding hens, hence harmonies cacophonous silently slither nigh nightshade-shrouded ambiance.
Whither the penguins? Whither crystal penguins silhouetted neath an obsidian sky? Baneful penguins with burning eyes: eyes that pierce the night.
Feathers. Feathering. Fletchers, falcons, fain fletch but do not fetch.
Bowser, browsers, bantering boors. Simpering sceptically, simmering sneers.
Away! Away! Narcissus-X and art! Art ready for art? Hark! Narcissus-X Comes!
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