We live in the field and awaits the coming of the grave, And the rocket's red glare, the bomb bursting in air, Gave proof through the mists of the brave? On the shore dimly seen through the night that our flag was still there, O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the .socket unit, but with the screams of tortured souls deafening him. "Hey, St. Pete, what's all this?" screams Gates "Where's the beach party?" "Oh, I only showed you the demo version," St. Peter replies. We see the same stories if told to them becoming a petty person is called auspicious;

grave,

of

that

auspicious;

field

tortured

the

the

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