Oh! Cease your mourning and speak not in jest! Tear loose your blackened shrouds and soften that porcelain mask which keeps your bonne de 'Estonie for some man unfinished. Pray, end your vestal crime, grant your cloistered and lying lips a tactile freedom from your senses. Show more cleavage.
Your blightly words ring in me lightly tell me o how do you wrightly in your chambers dark and frightly but glad you think I look alrightly.
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