Nanoprobes make green tea hexagons and surreptitious links to bygone conclusions. Form the constant incontinents until no-one can orbit over MacGyver's third planet, where home is on the range and poison atmos fear nothing but fear itself. If one is by land, then two are by seasoning salt. No body knows the troubles we sea, one nation of underdogs, invisible, with livery justice for some.
English
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its...its beautiful -tear-
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*Dog Of War bows to Detterentnine*
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My head fücking hurts now.
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My work here is done.
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ahh, I love that book
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Hail Eris, baby