There is serenity within its self-stimulating prowess, as a legion of testimony sways in the easterly winds of dendrological plantations. Can you feel the power of the banshee as her Irish spirit cries in the face of certain death? The herald of Caoin is a lamentation for your long and pale hair.
Oh relentless gestations of hatred, I appeal to your haunting foreplay.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
There is serenity within its self-stimulating prowess, as a legion of testimony sways in the easterly winds of dendrological plantations. Can you feel the power of the banshee as her Irish spirit cries in the face of certain death? The herald of Caoin is a lamentation for your long and pale hair.
Oh relentless gestations of hatred, I appeal to your haunting foreplay.
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