Big fat words for egotistical drivers, impetuous impetuses for forthright connivers; what I detest is greed and status, righteous patrons purport they have this sense of common perpetual delight, where they don’t really know light from night.
And I see it’s me I’m talking about. I’m the one inserted in the middle, but there is no way I know the answer to this riddle – and to unravel what I found mysterious is beyond a thread of milled out mischievous misdemeanors misanthropes mistaken alike. How long it took me to see what I’ve become, I am so so so so so so so so wrong.
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