It’s the first time and again to tell you I’m as broken as an entire house hand blown and probably painted like goose eggs. And again, Salt’s all I add to things I already like, it’s no understatement I’ve made you an ocean filled full of fish bones. I assume success is exciting that danger too is too and again that for you there are too many words. Peach, bear, broken, syrup, or-terse, are not enough to get life to work like you but are enough to get life to work for you. When or not in the right order you do or don’t understand don’t or do you? Necessarily, I’m picking thorns from the years andagain lips used to tell you you have less faults than a rose. In essence and again I’m a fishbone hut in a **** storm and again roses aren’t as red without the ****** that may or may not have made the same red as half the red on your hands already, and again, I eat/ate oceans and am fishbones breaking me brings no wishes or good luck or and again I’ve choked children and again talking to you is like chopping a tree onto myself.