I'm sorry, This is good for relieving anger so i'm doing more.
Glossy pages of unsearched underground forest into a blank personality of fates **** you you man of great power into the telephone of unease. Take this hand and stop saying that i'm not going to burn it down you poser. I find this very sharp as the scissors grow inside od my mouth faucet readness black beauty triumph and kill for you are going to pay for your sins you likable psycho into depths. Voodoo i'm not stop telling her that i'm getting really annoyed no more it is confusion confusion i tell you WHat? No more i'm not going to i think that all is lost inside of the devil to bring your cause you ******* you neediness it was a bad album i'm pissed times up for now bab great gleaming rivers of translucent hate funny face grow and bleed ouch! i'm not paying for the blue glass inside of my foot great watch out.
There's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going. There's no knowing where we're rowing or which way the river's flowing. Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing? Not a speck of light is showing, so the danger must be growing. Are the fires of hell a-glowing? Is the grisly reaper mowing? Yes, the danger must be growing 'cause the rowers keep on rowing, and they're certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing. AAAGGHHH!!!