This glimmer is LL cooling.

Last samurai, stencil, draw. Now be letting you go. Puffy deed. A huff on pissenlit, wind-scattered. Do know that I still care, always. But life has a cruel humor, impending. And we hurt, throbbing, stabbing. These tears, I smear away, juicing smile out of sheath stead. At the beat of tunneling uncertainty, I march on, choking back on this jerker. Press play.
Voices, echoing, shivering. Though, remake happens not. Voilà ze sad production. End.

Meanwhile, a single fuck was given that day. Digit.