Author unknown (№ 125264)

You on me so many labels hung, what am I even walking was difficult. I like the canning jar open, fork sloppy unappetizing content in the slurry is converted, and then the gates of his nose. With such intelligent persons judge me, as if their sins have not. Imagined themselves to be the executioners, their morality impose themselves and to question what it's like to be a Man, the eyes can show and silent lips air grab. And if you do not go to hell, gentlemen of the jury? I, for my sins not be accountable to you will.