domingo, 1 de mayo de 2016

Anywhere but here...



When you turned to me I say, the story of a quintessential things which I could make mages in the mirror of the purity by the means of Seo Hee. A night of the full moon when one of her minions turned into a kalihim by vindication of a bountiful thoughts to the fidget of totality, to the eclairs of quantifying and making figure out of a synthesis to the sensation of reality to the epitome to the learning methods to efficiency of brotherhood. To analyze a siege by magnacarta of lyrics with the essences of a sensation the philosophy of a frailty and a fringe to verdict of a deterent mind and a the things where that, is a hydrochloric detergent methyl ethene faces to the homogenous exargema of fusion. The things became an equate of humor and the ridge of feigned glory tend to turned into a heresy. With the utilization of the coaelscing sixers to sevens of a kindred happiness and things which could be a chance to shine and verge of lacquer to a better race, the essences of a contracidiction to oppositions of betrayal and grace in a haste of a fringe to the things which is usually all of about to us. The thing is that I'm working properly in a very social way and humor to ridge in reality forth union and pluralistic essences, metamorphosis is always a metamorphosis the truth of exchange where that for an essence to things that must be an against to betrayal. The rouge to vendetta could be a coaelsce of usually a ridge to heresy. The very queer of a riveting by sensation of glory where that emulsified by tremendous pervade of infidelity. The things where all usually of taking a lot, to the effects of nicer mode to reality and contradiction to adversities of life, the love and death to tumultuous roles of enlightenment where, that of a repertoir that I could efface by seeing thing more humongous than my shoulders not my legs. Prettiness is always a matter of her own vision, a while ago somebody tried beautifying my image then I'd enlightened in a more expectant ways towards a lacquer to the rivets of glory. The issue where always a kindred opposition to what I've said, (I'm shedding, shedding every color trying to find a pigment of truth beneath my skin).  Hmmmm... Maybe yes, maybe no... Especially that it is a story to the essences of an eclair, everybody is working in the day in the sun.

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