She sat wondering how the garden of funeral sores tied-into this song, this parched parish out of Parisian pathos, pathetic wanna-be's brining in the end of the world as we know it.
They came, they devoured and they went off laughing.
The sheeple followed blindly, blithely, joyously to the end of the brink.
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LolLolLolLolLolLolLolLolLol
LotLotLotLotLotLotLove
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"Virgin Mary was TIRED", tired, ya'll. Bloody tired of it all. Humpty Hubris fell and the Fall was a broken cosmic Egg.
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