The whores had brought the worst from all. They were the visage of the fall. The same which would not come this time—it was written—never mine. Together free the world would be—the place we all had wished to see. Everyone would be allowed to find their own most peaceful cloud. All had lost much to the dark—embodying most wicked art—there was not one who carried all—this was a family’s evil ball. We had done it back and forth—these many lies had hid the marks. This would be the time to end the devil’s games and find our mend.
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