Please resurge your relations if these nations wither away, bringing endless vacancy, as language becomes barren, the dollar's value deserted, and Pharaoh's hire hands baring sharp arrows. Or were they claws, not caring to spare their favorite slaves in pyramids of kings raised in a debased nature, the same way we feel we must hold our's sacred?
Yours Truly
P.S: this bs still exists in fixed, pre-paid paper.
This is my weird poem inspired by the back of a one dollar bill.