Wicked circumstances, wicked people and dog gods And so, in the midst of the wobbles, our Oscar, was born, no matter which fact before or after the comma corresponds to which. Here you are, watching the more and more crazy people who let their animal instincts output their vigorous desires. You are in the open air, watching from the sidelines, but you have repeatedly failed miserably. Why? Longing for beauty and seeing heaven with one's own eyes is such a disgraceful white magic that covets justice. Deliberately resisting, drinking poison and drums soberly, not letting yourself be distracted by the disappointing guys, not betting or accepting, foreign emotions, not insinuating and not giving, one kind of two kinds of care and true feelings. Talk about it, you don't think you are qualified, what. The right to reasonable purity and unsullied pleasure. Pure, impossible. Kindness, ineffectiveness. Good luck, not confident. Love is boring. Emotional coloring is something that doesn't need that. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, you. So you, so you. Without any function, it squeezed out from the eye socket slowly, one, two, conger eels. "But the umbilical cord is cut off, so it's impossible."
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