I've had toys, chompers, gotten done and done stompers.
Back to the grind, in all ways, shapes and forms,
Invading the girls dorms through laptop storms.
Dear John,
Do not ever, come home.
Fucking, what a life.
Life is like a box of chocolates. If you get too hot you meltdown, into a weird marbled chocolate lump of rehardened cocoa and milk.
These cats creep around like they got the crown, forlorn when feens feign the reign,
At least make it legal to marry your cousins.
COS IT 'APPENS ANYWAY ESHAY.
And that's the good news.
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