Keen amoungst the lore lays symbols laden with, inmeshed.
The lines collasece,
they weave and dress,
and form assembles
we attest.
Now best, we seek, through learning eyes, the ever changing shape's surprise,
to thrive and die,
the feast of pies,
the ripe enchanted taste of fries.
Sweet potato, no doubt.
Least you a lout...
And the list goes on, endlessly.
The step and pop of rhythm's...
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