Certain characters of mortality blemish the landscape of Satirist cognizance. To wish to instruct the catapult to throw its wrath is mundane humor. I know of the valley, the wood hue of Taragon. I wander in depths of sincere bonds to frequency. Stars that touch diamonds echo nomenclaturistic duties. I must explain minutiae? No, it isn’t fair voyager, nor is it tumultuously justice. I calm the twisted nerve of intellect with sight of mind, know these words. Too loose, I’ve found nothingness. – Sinz
