Ingrained fluorescent ruinous symphonies, painted against a thankless Nuru scent rancid insolence, spawned by ingrates fluid St Romulus sinful needs, tainted by gangster reckless movie scenes ransomed incidence, In the age where God is a rumor among the rue my rule mark the Rumba ruminating the room marooned much by rubric Rubix Cubism stenciled on a feint Picasso's background balanced only by audi alteram partem framed on Janus's Kandinskian May Collection. Time is but pure banter, finagling a concomitant sporadicity, wanton of collateral evidence, envisaged by sediments of sentiments, sent immensely by setting mens rea as a set, it meant that the pain of universal truism quell to be nothing more than a kink to a sadist demands. God doesn't roll dice, bet that. God doesn't roll, dice bet that. A jaundiced jawn jaw jocked, the John that's joined only to get Georgiad by Jojo for John Doe's joints.