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Title: Lyrics in the Key of V
The lively legends' lives are long linear lines linking liberation with the lingering of lust and love for lamb-like Lolitas who later leaped to the level of lionesses. These lores, loosely lax and relayed by lazy laymen, are illuminated likewise for laborers and lords. Latent laments usually lean linguistically lyrical while lecturing on the lovely lies about lucky lovers who lie lounging in lace and lilies locked in a labyrinth long lost to London lands. Likened to a locket, to these ladies fate lent their lovers not long, like a levee's length to last leaking. When Lucifer's lightning licks away the leaders' lives, lovelorn ladies lay looking, at a loss for living. Lingering lisps, lark cries, from luscious lips lurking in the leaders' lobes couldn't lasso or leash-lead their legs down the lane leading to their love-nest.
Such lullabies leave little leeway. Like a leaf lifted from a large limb landing on a liquid glass lake, or like a lamp's low light which light bulbs replaced, the ladies lived long lonely lives. Life-sacrificing leaders, lone wolves in lulls, lack the luxury of living in love. Guy and V, language lender and letter logo, through lady loves left in a lurch, their legacies live on.
Once upon a time, two men lived in their own time periods several hundred years apart. Their lives were not that different. They followed the same paths, making the same choices and believing the same beliefs. They also loved two very similar women. Both women were young and delicate, scared of living their own lives in a world that wasn't kind to good people. Through their respective relationships, the women became strong and competent, something they had been capable of all their lives and never realized it. Such stories, retold and rewritten with wildly fictitious liberties, hold valuable lessons on life and love for poor and rich alike. The few truths of these couples that still remain are usually told in lyrical rhymes or poems. They shine a rose-colored light on the stories, making them seem like yet more tales of 'happily ever after' taking place in hidden chambers below the streets of London. These shady hideaways severed as the men's place of plotting to save the world and the women's private palace to save their lovers. Everyone knew that fate had lent the men to their ladies for only a brief time. When the men died at the hands of evil while doing the work of good, the ladies were lost. Worse than living with their loss was living with the knowledge that their love had only encouraged their men, giving them the strength they needed to accomplish their missions. Their bedroom whispers, their pleading kisses, their undying devotion and love could not sway their men's plans and make them stay. If they had stayed, they wouldn't be the men the ladies fell in love with.
These bedtime stories leave little room for interpretation. Fate and nature cannot be altered, nor can progress be stopped. These ladies knew this, and they lived out the rest of their days bravely honoring their lovers' missions by day and crying themselves to sleep at night. Their men knew their own self-sacrifices would be inevitable. The luxury of living a life filled with love was impossible while the world oppressed them. Although the famously infamous Guy Fawkes and the vigilante known as V left their ladies abruptly without proper goodbyes, their legacies live on.
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