When I’m false, I’m a cruel and bitter trickery. When I’m blind, I’m youthful and perhaps naive. But everybody needs a bit of me in their lives. Something to supplement dreams, or to be a beacon in a sea of despair.

In the heart of bustling life, a geometric stage for public strife. Cobblestones echo with footsteps' beat, where city souls and village meet.

I’m always right, you know it’s true, as close as one comes to being a deity. No arguments lost, no words misspoken, just take my word, and all will be okay.

Boss makes a dollar, I make a this. That's why I poop, on company time!

What mows down this of grass and makes roller complete? The same thing that makes strands near flush where they seat. Rounded it’s useless, unless on your feet. Snipes played the part: a vampires defeat.