I don’t place much into those silken vows anymore, because they’re all made from the same skewered façades of the unrestrained, the sane quartered remnants of whatever these audacious patriots of promised validity used to be before the lusting temptations of financed idolization and fettered adoration intoxicated their mind, made them drunk with the illustrious, shameless notion of everlasting glory, supple feasting in the presence of worthiness, under the glooming caper of the torrential nature of the barefaced capricious, the ones who cannot seem to place humility above their pride.