I am Sauce of no particular taste, hopefully ill be edible at least.
You are Spice of no particular smell, apparently akin to yeast.
Matter Mixes Merrily Making the Most of Mostly a Magical Mishap.
Two Terrains Traversed, Together may Taunt but Time is Truly Tough.
Burlap sack rub my heart nice and rough.
Clap, Applaud until my egos had enough.
I am a lonely organism. A martyr for his people.
You are a happy human. A disease birthed of evil.