The Gril With The Mad Sapphires:
By Gildarts Winters:
Be leary of the girl with the mad sapphires.
Know that combat is all that, to which, she aspires.
There is no deterrent for these determined fires.
Listen, listen, listen, to the town criers.
Run, be safe! For in her wake, sanity retires.
We must run, must flee! Or, seek no quarrel with she.
The, the, the...innocent tremble and guilty flee...she never tires.
I implore thee, see reason. And, listen to me. Give vast birth to the girl with long hair spun of gold.
For if you cross her you will not become old.
Do not be bold.
I shall not bare witness to what transpires.
She is not coming, she is here! The girl with the mad sapphires.
*final wet, warm, sticky, gurgling, desperate, gasp*