dying is quaint and forbidden in this town. there are other towns.

i aint got no body

scratch your end with entertainment, sir. make it a beginning with the refreshing scent of secret supply. please yourself and please others, please remember in the good of the whole in the hole in your head where the soul of the dead whisper lingers for bread, please take this abstraction with an omniscient grain of salt and sprinkle carefully ( Read more... )

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