Fix Your Crack
And sitting on my presence, a benefactress, have no more amazement. But I cried out of veneration, for, I dashed off your decision, if you delight. Perhaps a little prematurely.
Can you, onto me, pile the pangs of humerous injection, big tooth grin? The poorhouse. The producement of produce. And what is it? And what is it not?
This he afterwards explained by saying, "sooth, they wasn't in my face." As though in a cluster of rabbit's moon, what we have done to deserve it, just after sunrise.
Yesterday morning, I knew, I just knew, fuck, I knew, there was little in the way of doctrine to school my daddy's nerves, and tremble.