She was sweeter than money till she met him
He has plenty of elan brutal.
Where are the borders of prayer?
By whose Messiah was love preserved?
Toujours re-bless.
Dies prayer,
A la printemps de l’annee je suis flosse.
A quicksand is no place to gather moss.
He said,Oh,No! Raaaa.Ahaha
A passim a day keeps Word at bay
He is bluish and almost unconscionable.
Je m’appelle la diva derider.
I think I aren’t.
Is he now a psychowrath?
I write with a pin on my arm.
I love to watch bones knitting
Quelle est l’heure de la torte?
C’est le mort diable.Scriabin.
Tortelier,mon amour.
How the hell he spells ,Romans nose love
I think my destiny was to greet this occupation … a la quartz
How my heart sings 