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Senior Member
These minds are not lost, merely eternally seeking to discover a beauty that vanished lifetimes ago. So you call upon it. The wind, like allongated sleeves directing mother nature, for beauty can not exist without blood and destruction.

Tickets to swirls of epic. One way. One lane. One spiral of destiny. In desperation, strangling vanilla under the massive ocean. So you call upon it. Your alias, like a choo-choo train in the hands of a toddler and all that is seen is jupiter.

Valiant, thirsty for purple lightning. A force you struggled to forget so you long. Long for that articulated scent. What is bravery when the cords are tightened. What is perception when empty boxes sleep. A tranquility which everyone seemed to cherish so lightly. So you call upon it. The truth, like the exhausted hooves of a galloping horse. Say it! Do it! SCREAM IT!

This converted the hooligans.