A dropping of seasons
Glamping in the foul weather
We joke, Widodo, don’t listen to us
Terrifyingly, tramplingly foreign, isn’t he?
Sucking down the mists of the moon, we expand into fork bombs
Detain and search, under executive code 319056a3
/// /bin/bash
Fletching the conversation, we gather our dues
Underspiced, we wake up, and seek a reprimand of the doctor
Feeling all unwell, we deliver

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