Jun 30, 2003 05:27
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20,etc...
I Remember these people, The thought of their deaths make me smile.
The black goo inside my guts boils and rejoices, when visions of mangled corpses dance inside my head.
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I love playing that song really loudly infront of old people at the bus stop outside my house, they always look sared.
Love Rena
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That should be a class, Like underwater basket weaving.
Chair domination 101
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