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My life is in two pieces, this is my last resort, something I shut up, no breathing. Having us, bro, your email is shit. Cut that hair so I can see your eyes. It's been a lot of day, bitch. Didn't even go outside and test them grass. Nah, those great- those fucking blades of grass are gonna fucking cut your fucking wrists. Be for real bitch, like you can't even touch that shit, be for real.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, wait, wait, wait, wait. Uh. She wears shorts and I wear T-shirts. She cheats on me on a date. She's giving other things. I got a sign in a bookshelf. Looking for testing here in the whole town. And if you see the guy who I once had a big figure, I'm not sure I can't just keep it. You
Come on, why don't you stop chasing this with my last resort? For vacation, deliberations and like that. It's the very email world. Why are you so flat-chested?