Like computers we cannot forget our history
Where childhood memoirs blazes like a killer swords
Lost in the plenitude of glaze, convalescence heals rottened bone marrow.
Deafening silence screams with the clarion call,
Wilderness ramblings exit for beautiful history
Where tantalizing bliss of new found opulence,
Raged through the edifice of wonderful mansion.
Every memoir bringeth much greater bliss,
A yearning plea for more bliss and epicureanism,
From the creasing panache and grandeur of resplendent plutocracy
Extant history Behold beautiful days ahead.
Starlets convalesced into stars and unimpeded stardom,
Weeping morn turn into jubilant morn,
Bedecked with immaculate galaxy of stars,
Golden hills finally erupts the sand dunes of golden Nirvana.
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