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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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She whilom whaled me
with all the worship’s wildfire she spoke a carnivore language her words lanced me overleaf my wroth desire and on her tallest whispers my excoriated love voluptuously skidded on hymeneal harms of fire. say when say when to stop my cutlass rives deep down your clough should I relent my love so rough? But she would wrest my soul midstream. Forthwith her undercurrents had it refilled. Reeve me aloft reeve me alive, undying captor as it were to decipher I’m nothing but your foredoomed lifer.
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