A beautiful dilapidated of the (F.R.O.D.O. (Filthy Rotten Obnoxious Drug Obscenity) Too far gone and seeking nether, So far off, lost drifting tether, Above the seat of Kings together, We can see forever, ever, ever, ever, ever... With miruvor intoxication, a warm hearted reception, A mirrormere so intricate, designed within reflection, A secret word of passage, spoken heedlessly, On moonlit nights, within the shade, of the pillared trees, Dispelling thickened gloom away, dignified to charity, For chasing down the light of love, by fellowship in clarity, Through heavy shaded starlight, beyond the flaw of wrong, The word a valiant Lord might say, or written in true song, Facts you need not prove by lyrics immaterial, Floating silent through an empty room, like spirits of mitherial, See the vibrant notes of music dance across the wall, Flying up to catch the drifting words of a song not sung at all, Congruent sound of simple verse too brothers in conviction Believe events without a witness, overlooking contradiction, Of fate not yet decided, of destiny unfulfilled, Like a book with no clear ending, and all the heros getting killed, To be unburdened from the real worlds sickening appall, And never bearing any stolen corruptive ring at all:1.3), by (Bill Watterson and Gustave Dore:0.8), (surrealist and Panorama:0.8), (painting:0.3) | Painting