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pastor appreciation poem

a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
algum queixou-se ao mestre
muito bem, você liberais
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
eu ouvi-me que uma determinada princesa
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
vivido pelo river-side
melhore do que o granito
não esteja irritado com mim
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
eu sei o que você está indo dizer

 



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