Dig this Daddio:


lips curse and evenings you've no she aluded play kink a him
wayward explodes at or is weather that is just like Syracuse's my heart
lusts for him but my shoe I can be the god you never knew. From the
tangled shroud of Sleep, I rose. although i pout the wayward garden
hose and kink it till it's juice no longer flows my, my, what is
that you've got No one could understand him, save the horrible machine,


Seed me again