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To dice around the bottles since before the sands of time, since time has all forgetten. The tripe of non-existance. Single stand for the although of the retribution of sin. The kind stranger of since between the sin cosine. The triangle of all name single handed out the future stamps of force pressure. The figurtive speaks of speaker one time, only time. The backthrow of a hurricaine cradle rock of the finest wind pressure. The typist of the type time mimic. The songs can only be sung through the last since thoughtforeafter, forever in the wind will it blow, the rose. Blossomed in the womb of Mother Nature herself, since the ground can reach no further in the roots will it water. The crown of a medal of rosette red crimson blood, of the prick of the thorn that it shelters in it's shadow, of kind drift mist. The swiftest of wind cut through the barrows of the petals through and throughout making way to the other side. Of the moonlight cast overshadowing the petals in deep crimson, but moving in a magenta graspe. The look so divine of the rose that hath bloomed in the pedastal. The limelight of enigmatic youth do we have our lonely star on orion's belt. Which has it the boast of a crime that put one not of the moons starry graze, do we have our shadows on our backs. Tis but not at thee who is the crime of the shadows, but one with it have revoked. Anyways this is the biography, signed on the back. signature stating you lose.

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