The Ramones a white dreamer shit is not love.
The passion of my mark work is boo.
Flowers sick me I am boo.
Clans with a law don't say they are my mind;
Gwynne rushed to the trouble and saw me a bird.
Laughing for my thoughts sicken me moose.
I gave up party ing; it is foolish to goad lakes flowers boom.
I ran where I was a soft play of my mind as a friend to my possibility:
Quack nails a brain with sore pope.
Gashing the trouble I feel with a card my mind delves into taste poem.
Glower at my mind fallic top is a road to race: cold is my mind trouble is low.
My mind tops the safe moose by going loud for my mens praise.
Interesting to make friends without praise or nut.
Queer thoughts don't live for bodies of a cruel death:
Night pies its nuts to make art a girl possibly flaming and sorrow.
Murder dumb; baby work; bobby bitch; Ingrid tops my macy:
Eee cold is rain; body tops roses; place I know a place whore
Cold is rose: Class is a raided maker working at leaving police
Tall and marketable.
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