There are so many people who do not get a rid of their own lives.
It makes me laugh, and they latey begun to think that everything goes so smoothly, no matter what they were doing. But now 'the grimaces stand near the end & I've got my fun and rub my hands.
Clean of the blood sticking on my hands, I was like a warrior and've butchered them. Heads are flown throughout high arc over you about it, I knew it'd 'worth it.
Hold the gun to your head again and you can see by what I say. Blood flows as slow down, right on your neck you no longer believe in miracles!
It would also help nothing to believe in 'em,- I can tell you-, because out of your wound already crawling the maggots.
So get a rid on my life!
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The human understanding to be.