It's like ten-thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife
Protecter, I'm scared of people again....
Vilianous disk-matter... This is not the last you'll see of me.
Language is a cliff-sake. For heaven's sandbars are waiting. Rope down with fellowship, you corcous fire-need. I shall pollute your infestations, in space of purity, cleanse.
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