If something was offered and never taken, did the infinite equation alter in curves?
Did the curves take forms of angels that sent the waves of emotion to ends of burnt flesh?
Smells of effervescent odes were clues to the rads tome in crime.
Moving the garden gates in olden bright canes.
It was never the time to walk the narrow with crates of cheese.
And offerings were forever narrow with chase.
Have a slight Sunday!
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