Saturday night's couplings. Brunch Sunday morning. Count how many ways they have to say nothing. Shame changes shapes, makes a name. Doom outgrown shiverprone proven shimmerproof. Even Christ carpenter built crosses. Judas braved himself able to betray for only love. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to, so don'tish and smoking, always a catch of some kind, I guess. No matter how big your bid eyes, you don't know me anymore. It's the singer, not the song. You've got some fucking technique, baby.
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