Thus I painfully prepare for the plenty of peculiarly perfect puns, the personal pest you've picked to perturb and pollute this pompous Peter, positively perforating this place with the powerful pounding of precise preparation prescribed on the premise of pretense, while pride prevents the presentation of progression.
Prosecute not this pupil with puns, presenting the prison's pretty pounding of pretentious power, but rather praising the practice of precision with pose.
That was so beautiful- I shed a single alli-tear-ation. You didn't have to go through all that trouble to rePeat a single letter. Why would we want wonderful wordplay to waste, withering in washed out waste lands of worn out wonders watching for the worthy, wanting to be woken from wanton wishing? Words warn would-be wrongdoers what we won't (or can't) do-
Long last! Lately I've been lazy and loafing in this logic lacking location, lonely like the loss of love. Lately lacking but look! A lyrically liberal linguist, loyally leading. Lord, the loss of lovely low-key lingual lightning leaves me lean and lone. Least your love of lit and ling leaves me lonely not.
The friendlessness you feel is from failure to formulate formidable fundamentals? Facetiousness fuels the fire of further fun found from forming new footpaths in our familiar lingua france. To forlornness French leave is given, and fellows like you finish their fitting functioning with foundations fabricated from this fundamental fun. Friends in forms of familiar frills form you. To you I need not fend for.
Your diction is dangerous, of devilish desire,
the degree to its depth, determinately dire.
Despite the desolation of which its derived,
The dimension of detail is distinctly designed.
Dislike those damn disposable, disruptive deficiencies,
Undoubtedly us, the duo of diction, are deprived of the depressant dubbed 'disillusion'. Digressing, dear, do not devolve your devious mind, do so, however; dodge doubts of dowdy design.
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