Running through so many corridors,
She’s going to get sick
The Lord won’t rest, Spring is coming, the Urge is coming!
On me?! Ohhh no you won’t! I’ve seen her Soul Glasses
I know you can’t be sick
No
No you ain’t
No
No
May this dream be desicrated and finite; oblivion of void with a retired photon,
(Ashleigh is a terror of hysterical carbon footprint; thought she grew up and left that habit behind)
{I don't want to find her, know her, or have to administer to her.
Yom is for the purge and there are orange highlights from her in my Bible}
A perfect cure? Indeed I have done it and am Done.
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