I exonerate your freedom of expression, as it reminds me of a grandiose display where extravaganza proudly flaunts herself to captivated masses, without shame.
The evidence permeates its way through our fallen souls.
If you were to caress the jagged edge of freedom and acknowledge the liberties of unequivocal slavery, then perhaps we could interact beyond the deepest and darkest hours of early morning recommendation?
Wanton lusts are irreligious as they parade themselves among the throngs of a murderous vindication.
Therefore, we must make haste to the throne of divinity and stand before the king, oh harlot of discrepancy, where we can give an accurate account of musical utopia.
Is there anything that you want from me?
A brief encounter is characterised by reckless youthfulness, and reveals itself before the parameters of respectability.
We hang on with vanity.
You can **** me now.