3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

sonnet # 98

O full moon, whose limed corpses were my cure,
To whom I werewolf now howl open praise,
I've found your garden party, scraps the lure,
From nearby yews and graves I gladly gaze.
I'll wave in windows, win hearts not so pure,
By fast and famine this is early phase,
If plague fleas pricked me werewolf ways,
Again through hair of dog shots I'll endure.
Do your girls foster flattery, pay heed?
Are they peers at plus or minus twenty?
Do they sip heated lemon, lime and mead?
Are they plumped up now from times of plenty?
Do black teeth give way here to those of gold?
And where's the paupers pawnshop put on hold?

(Chorus)

o gold
o auroch
o halo