Never trust any Zion. Lead your own life full of breathtaking subjects. I don't care of their plots, as they freighten me with outer images; neither I trust their stories. I will know the reasons, all the same.
I needn't travel places to get assured of that it feels great for me, with you. Jesus wishes me light, through your looks.
You are two years late, however. She is not your rival, as she reminds you. Perhaps over a decade younger than you, but I don't care of age. How are you going to split the knot? I would have enjoyed you inseparately, if back then. Please engage all your charms. I can't live with an idea. I mean to know who exactly haunts me. If you, say, than I ought to know you better. To what extent, you suggest, my sweetie.
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