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| | Don't Quest! |  |  | Monday, September 22, 2008 (11:06 AM) (I'm feeling amused) |  | Know tan sense of what I feel Makin
If you do not know what I am talking about fucking point you know your bag
How does it feel pain how it feels when something happens
You know how black coloring alone when the giants but the stairs
The door did you hit my stick my nose in front
This is not long lasting longer to kill you when you wash the blood of
You promised me whore eternal love
Point certainly regret it is time to hurt me
Not here anymore oo useless to the return of Resurrection are you holding back
I do not I just yell, but flay the mouth, but to torture
I don 't need assistance in hell for nothing you want angels
The assistance will help helpless in vain to play innocent
You must be a sin for many the promise of worthless
Lists I read endless ideas translated into action dress
Over the last fairy tale you read and satisfaction I feel
Give you a chance of new life
Mor whore dying, and my wounds are overgrown you lick
Nobody will be unable to make it Sunday BEHALF
For you, I was ready, but what gives
But now it's time to kill you on my lap on the grave
Your day is numbered and Sun Day lettering
Overall, shit what I had to test now you get back
You do not tan of life will then see the morning dew
But now it's time to kill you in my arms to fall to grave
This booklet was the fault of plastic so I always
But then when I see their flesh Sunday, I can say you 're dead
This is a sick I know but I don 't this nothing can
You are you can not wait for others when you do not tomb Sunday bell will ring
Then I get to laugh, and properly reflect the faces Sunday
All the Sunday rag so shitty
John Tucker Must Die, and I intend to maximize the
When I have managed to kill you kill the Sunday two dogs
They get Sunday to hell with you suffer
You can view the bottom when they are, I will drop from balcony
Then I fuck I am going to take everything from you
I sound psycho now I know maybe even
It was not but I still lying tolerate everything
But in fact you whore ass did you about this difficult
Now, hell to kill you lull to sleep woman
The last thing you see is actually the devil
I 'I am going to hide a body Sunday in a distant woods
My fault whore once you did you deceive me
Gash back Sunday wheat signs of the devil
you no longer based on clear about this
Read the bug prayer and praise Sunday, Mr
Mc Manen real half the last time
The publications to educate the death divides innards out
And when you seem to me that fucks why is the result of
I will not ever be able to me and I do not want to
I will not ever be able to correct me Markus reaches
It hurt that's why Markus is permanently disabled
And Mc Mane takes over the limelight now
In the light of a Sunday flesh on the ground glitters
While the fly-Switzerland corpse gash
You opens my wounds from that's why it is now time for me
Do you now, at least one thousand identical |  |  | 62 Views | 0 Thumbs Up | 0 Comments |  |
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