Count the pounds down as peasants adorn cranial fronts with frowns that could drown any sound within one hundred perspectives of neither here nor has-been bound to indescressions of undialected tongues forked with saber points annointed with the cruelest of venomously generous clones.
yo the verse i speak be deeplike the puddle that i drown your select chosen priests in,weep as i wreak a volley of lyrical projectiles in your general directionas i cut down your generals with misdire... Posted by on Sat, 24 Jan 2009 23:21:00 GMT
