There's Nothing Wrong With Being A Large

Music Inflames Temperament.

I Am Troubled, Immeasurably By Your Eyes. I Am Struck By The Feather Of Your Soft Reply. The Sound Of Glass Speaks Quick, Disdain And Conceals What Your Eyes Fight To Explain.

I'll Never Wake Up In A Good Mood Again. I'm Tired Of These Stinky Boots

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No One Thought Up Being. He Who Thinks He Has, Step Forward.