It is a diabolical plot, slightly volatile product, signed in a modular slot
It is tiny molecule wattage. Cyanide and lozenge to pop. It's illogical.
It is the phenomenal, slyly prodigal homage to spectacular speech
It's the vernacular beach, where words wave away immaculate sea
it's the curvature grade A, earth that serves killer smirks on your murderous face
It is a perfecter way, to disturbingly ache over cursive created, you worship in gaze
It's an enigma, a mystifying mystery, that deciphers your charisma arena
It's the electrifying wizardy that hands out riddles on my militia's subpoena
it's the handwoven knife cutter, sputtering Ambrosian bright colors
It is Beethoven's ninth number, playing gray moments lifes' wonders
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