
I've got a sinister bonnet. The nutmeg wilderness where we undress. We have a snack in the clouds.
Phantom line dances on abandoned streets.

The brine shrimp rebellion. the talcum summer hell kit. The shadowy script in the grim beyond. I've got a tombstone hat and a graveyard mind. Crows pecking at your door, asking for more. More and more the crows implore. Your casket is rolling up the stairs to you. A demented onyx love curtain still awaits you in the circuit bent beyond.
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In poison we've been cruisin not that take means anything to the likes of you. Under the many tits of the Goblin Queen. Well I vomited up a bit of our fuck. I refuse to lick pudding off of the gates of Eden. A peanut shield to kill all that you yield. Here comes to spatula of the gods we'd better keep moving on.

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Ignore those forlorn moans in the gutter, we'd best be moving on. It's going to be a bumpy ride, strap your merkin on tight. The Devil does the twist with your sister, by morning she will have a sexual blister.