It seems to be cold in here, inside the empty head of you. The end of you. When you speak, your pink, pink pout spouts out poison, and without a doubt, they believe in you. Idiot, well I know, yes I know, what this is about. I have most definitely figured you out. Behind your vile smile, here is more teeth than I can count and a pair of horns to go with your lying grin.
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