Enough sense not to take you seriously and enough sass to take you down.
Lore
A hog I saw, furious growl on its lip,
No friend of the asphalt was it,
But a lover of miles.
And on its saddle, a furious scowl.
Tattoos cutting through muscles, leathers cutting through ice-sharp wind.
A killer of men.
Would you know yet more?
<i>Lore submitted by paweldaruk</i>
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