On your own pathway between 24th Street and a five-dollar footlong, See the 10th wonder of the world, something words fail to entertain even the idea of but dance around the flame of a theoretical tripodal glint of mankind. Manly women accompanied by surly men gather round to witness a once in a lifetime opportunity of mental illness reaching its peak comedy tour. They watch as it takes the noose of the evergreen and wraps the white with the bloodied, back-breaking son of a bitch. Entertaining escapades hit its line and ask for naught. It declines and continues the foreboding journey of the miscellaneous follicle embedment of the 19th century.
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