Текст: The Number Twelve Looks Like You. Like A Cat.

Give him back his sweater that poor fellow has only orchestrated symphonies into the poisoned ant hills.
You have tried, I'm afraid don't let it hurt I shouldn't stay show your cards now I won't out stain the tub clot the streak cock the wheel push it deep fallen shade drowsy left me hopeless carve my head great disguise took a breath gave it back early aged self pitying misfit experience coincidence quality menstruating it makes more sense to speak nonsense.
What is it like to scatter organs all over a deeply pasteurized land
Just like a cat without a mouse it masturbates it violates.
Sadistic Dresser
Maybe it's the ability to choose that makes a wounded player take to the field and laugh at his injury than to be fed peas and carrots by his sitter.
Farewell to the oldsmobile acknowledge the new models.
Farewell farewell.
Set me back in my old sweater tonight for an hour or two I can obtain satisfaction mutilating ones humiliating me.
You have tried I'm afraid don't let it hurt I shouldn't stay show your cards now I want out stain the tub clot the streak cock the wheel push it deep fallen shade drowsy left me hopeless carve my head great disguise took a breath gave it back early aged self pitying misfit
What is the point of laying in a comfortable position if you can't fall asleep in it?