A Relic of Rest
Rot runs rampant readily, because the radiant ruffian rats out his radical rascal.
Reset my roasted relic for my regret rests upon the wreckless and racist Ramadan that is my recent roundabout.
Running rowdy in the randy rain while rocking ruthlessly amongst the rocks and rakes to return the rubble in a raging rupture of rectitude.
A ruckus resumes in the rusty but wretched, rank and rude rest stop which lies in the rut of a rotund yet ridiculous runt of a roost.
Regularly I regret ruling the requirements within the report of my watch, rescinding the righteousness of my wrinkled and wronged form.
A roller-rink robbery rights the wrongs of the readily raunchy rabbit who races my ringing rays from the runt to the river.
I reconnect the ripple of ripped rails from rudders to runny rugs.
I wrought the realistic rendering of this ruling, rarely relishing in the reified refrain found in the roar of a rooster.
I recommend regal restitution while rolling right around the runny rod of the rightful rubber rag.
I rub the rat of recidivism while roomy rooms revert into rungs of ruckus.
Rewind my rasterized rolling eyes for the remaining reverence of rock and roll is rightfully at rest.
I recite my resistance resentfully as I relive the wrongdoings of my richeousness right away.