War kid was a fanged tongue that shadowed all the moon. The eyes of worst were seed and horsed the face of war the spider's spor a door of turned skin was white beside the foamy tide of scale this colour king. The stoads of state was close and ....plated rode the roads of tiger toad and iced one's moad and the snarling snarts of menge. The mountain mad where lythons crouched the hearts of fallen swans, and to wail so late at the gate of fate to aid the childlike men.
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