
When the school is over, by sunset glow covered. Eight girls still hover, the ones without a lover. How come a girl suffers, in such a Ivory Tower? With feathers shorn and shaven, raucously quoth the raven.


Make per capita land occupation a little bit bigger.

Make per capita life expectancy a little bit longer.

Make the light brighter, and the dark deeper.

Not to make the way out, since you've ever made.

Well, that's a lot of Damage Per Second.

Top Secret? No no no, trust me...

Enough mourning though.