Response to پاكستان

♥ I dreamt a funny little dream Sameer Besmirch palrooning calabash ,where nebrous whirlings starch Nanny Bohunk A chilling shiver down my spine it sent Samantha but in that land i was safe, unable to be reached the old ones are dreaming and awaiting their time X I wanted those puppies, Meme Death creeps upon them, this is not time to shine. D Money They are so sad to see. D Money life sucks david Hockey Faraaz ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffd ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff ffffffffffd but when i play my favorite sport, called hockey, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck floaters cloud my image distorting your face Mac Duffee held me in the hot half light & I gazed at his panicked shimmer, trying to think of it as making love a curious resonance but in reality I was alone, surrounded this is a poem about mayhem my head hurts sing to the streets but they do not listen, and Barclay tries the cheese for a moment, but does not suceed in having the pencil Barclay forever emily u will smell odorous ninnnnyyy a quirky thirst for justice coated their brows as if it was the dark on an eskimo pie Tom Zanzibar the tekken game shall eat the unks! ninnnnyyy barclay smells of onions and goat cheese, and forever eats the paper of the land of odour Barclay leaf leaf leaf the green leaf is in mcGhees teeth Barclay emily smells of purple men the purple men are among barclay, yet she not see them becuase she is blind of all things but green pot roasts Barclay a rabid pack of ardvarks ran rampant throught the streets of new york one day and feasted upon the young and the old alike! why are you dressed as a french maid? Barclay GET OFF MY FUZZY CD PLAYER! Barclay ah bullocks !!!!! ai dinnae ken 'ow the candlestick got up me arse! scottish fiend shut up you goat cheese mo fo Barclay The stars in the sky are like the breath of the foreverlasting brothers of weasles! Emily hello all! Emily hello all! Emily Two bedraggled rodents, we hid in the bongo factory, daring not to breathe a hush Gunnar Von Sloth A tarnished past kept gakking on our shoes

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