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Ares
06-12-2010, 05:32 PM
My broad swordís blade stays harder then South American Snakewood tree roots.
Fillet your bronchial regions, like Marsyas after he lost to Apollo with his flute.
Smoke wooden pipes filled with herbs that leave me visualizing hyperbolic spaces.
Fuck the daughters of the eldest races, crush faces of my foes with berserkerís maces.
Slow pace in the Minotaurís labyrinth maze, and fields where behemoth mammoth graze.
Dark horses pull my chariot for days as I travel up mountains coated in haze.
Feast on barbecued tusked fiends with the regionís greatest hunters, around emerald fires.
Mounted on a monstrous shire, I drive my lance into your village churchesí spire.

J.T.S.
06-14-2010, 11:31 AM
Feast on barbecued tusked fiends with the region’s greatest hunters, around emerald fires.
Mounted on a monstrous shire, I drive my lance into your village churches’ spire.


hahaha.. sick

Ares
06-14-2010, 01:23 PM
Thanks for the drop-by, good looking out.