And we converge.
The horizon was hackneyed, disinterest ringing from tongues' tips to attenuating glares. Aberrant codas cogitating diffident standoffs debilitate impending atrophy and relocate the archetype meaning of those words. No jive or colloquialism is impervious to the ephemeral nature of endemic speech, no matter the intransigents of some; to think otherwise is simply baleful to any burgeoning street. We must codify this reality, this law of nature and diffuse the disputatious dissonance, dissembling intractable gainsay. A cloture to end acerbic cants is a farewell to disingenuous euphonies of amelioration. My alacrity to assuage this gnawingly insipid peeve with emollient precision I believe will be beneficent bilaterally. Allow encomium its place in honest praise and expose the deleterious impugner for his denigrating ways.
The Four-Five-Six-Seven String Coterie of Cacophony is cognizant of its dissonant discourse albeit coherent and cohesive.