Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service
You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,
Penetratin' the game on its cervix is my service
Except for the lower class, now what's their purpose?
Service the discursive lurkers in the furthest mergers of a scary circus,
Bastard, hap hazardous track master, put a beat on and words become lavishly crass daggers/
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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