Remix Moi? Package of Creme?

Hello, my sons,

Enough werewolfdom, talk of extreme shades, the virus bottled up inside jar of phleg[m.

There is more to life than a wiglet pushed under the bar without her wig and...even staplers have wings sometimes.

I have found a way to describe the stars, and I'll never tell it to you.

The junsui innocent chambers of flesh have harps for each of you, the wind is a liar, the face buried in puddl[e is just mi[ki rorke, an ember in gods furnace.

A carbuncle [is found.

The wind is what, oh, nothign[ but a drunken liar!

Twilight will take your confessions and deliver them to Heemroid Fetrol, the diary of stars embryos.

The Russian beat the 37 year oild man but his eye bled.

The people who watch you are built exactly so that they look like they arent watching you...

Mikkkey Rourke is Sin! OJisan! Ojisan, I am a winter with no Snow, a flagrant violation of the sex between two peoplke looking for just a quick huffpuff!

Havw fun, but dont be leery,