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Good sir, Will thy be mistaken for a foe or an acquintance in a green barren land thy wish to conquer?

No matter how hard thou trieth—in the heat of war, thine irises must seek crimson; the talks are a fool’s errand which thy almighty lord rejecteth.

“behold the field in which I grow my fucks

lay thine eyes upon it and thou shalt see that it is barren”

Mar 31
at
6:51 AM
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