oh mother Mary, forgive them, for they have won. Continue to beat Him, this is His love.Ĭoughing up His mother's love all over a plate of refurbished organisms, This is His love. yet another day blessed with His presence. If only gratitude could get you somewhere.Ĭensor His bleeding hands, broken teeth and blood-red hair. If only gratitude could get you somewhere. This was yet another favorite of His, Conscious effort was put into everything that He didn't do and Everything else was a failed plan. It wasn't His thing to talk like that, Waking up the next day in a nightmare of a grey colored room Full of friends with no names and metal as cold as hell. No one had the time to listen to Him, they don't care. It was never easy to show them I loved them, He said as He was removed from the booth. The speakeasy parlor was filled with many a fair lady, Fallen victim to another mind rape by their Christian fathers.
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