It can not be a minus If it's pushed away by a plus I do not want to fuck you Neither you are Alise Glass.
As chairs are made to be sat People are born to be sad.
Tear yourself From the stratpsphere's embrace It's not enough to think as wide As it is needed to be right. Kill your pride But don't leave corpse inside Because its decomposing body Will intoxicate your little spirit With discharges that are in fact Glory's ejected posterities.
I am the one who controles you When you loosing your self-control. The volunteers have formed a queue So it's an honor after all.
Have you seen their faces when their time is over?
As I said As chairs are made to be sat People are born to be sad.
It can not be a minus If it's pushed away by a plus I do not want to fuck you Neither you are Alise Glass.
I don't want to fuck you... I... don't... want...
Your face now looks like Your time is over. Your time is over. Your time is over.