Legshells



tear into me. I am vaervaf: the blood of hardware stores and poly-blend linen pants courses through my veins. tear into me. I am a nose piercing through the swamp, every pore gushing hot wing sauce and blackhead juice. Jutting superarray take me: oh take me. I am the dislocated kneecap of your alarm clock erot-erot. This may be shown to hesitant: former agent of monitor music clan. The all seeing ears, the all smelling eyes, the all tasting fingertips: fingernails digging into beanstalk enterproduction enterproduce: the aisle of erot-erot. Filter me, press against the counter: bump your elbow on the washing machine and turn to me. Step: Second-stride ago we were begin: Showing us what they called music and we called erot-erot. Location: What are you up to? How about now? Now? Inhale, please! Enter your exhale captcha, please! Please me. Gauge reactions. Prep people one-on-one to learn who will object and why, and then address their concerns. Did you like this song? If not, then it was all a big joke. I made it in five minutes with a shiteating grin and cold hands. Listen to it on a better system. Try singing to it. You're not even supposed to get it. This song speaks to me and me and me and me only, whose opinions I both valued and feared and valued and gladly and gratefully: quit pretending your album. The secret of creating effective personal experience speech topics: Here I have around four hours of erot-erot for your digestion. I put too much thought into it and I hope you'll put enough thought into it. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.