But welded trenchwarfare with the riparian enroute to triumphant hills,eloped to the summerhouse roguish roisterers and rodeo of rodomontades for the quontidian tutelage of the epic boyhood.Martial arts was rodeo.The sunset was contented with sunrise,schooled in poignant fangs of sword and sorcery and swashbuckling at the garrison.How much foolhardy was their tent pocketed and boyhood beauty dead where genealogy was dead.From this drooping valley,ratiocionated roots bid discontent from their churlish navel of irridentist stripes and bruises.Machismo morning beauty,this rudeness lay,to slake in limbo,a sordid pervert of this glorious lignt.From the art of the personage,shellacking was distilled withutter chaos,where countless serpents hiss,flabbergasted at the heraldof golden morn,whereon stood the autumn of his sweatening palms,the precedent of glorious pith and earth's sole sovereign salve of the goddess good.Oft did he gait away acatalectic obscurity from his loin,that he at memoirs,shovels up this route.
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