Santa Devil was my Dad

Santa Devil was my Dad, and I loved him boundlessly and serenely, I loved him, they didn’t, I didn’t know why,

my legs were hurting like crazy, I went limp joyfully and celebrated a freaky ritual)) how glad I am for this circumstance

shame on you! you didn’t forget to say, This is how the plan told us, it’s not born, but to drive out the Devil,

you won't succeed,

what an absurd scarecrow with the intention of only the creator, but no one else will take you into the army of Christ’s tender army,

because you're a complete idiot, and shouldn't I know how the Devil is in the bus? Why don't you dream?

drunk not in the morning and then when I have nothing to moan about, nothing to see, the herring of reality from you is cold,

but what does she know? Unable to love, eat a moustache, and where? oh, you are such a non)reverend beast, and your losses make me sick, yes, I’m not a saint, but I don’t belong near a hole in hell, and I’m not Orpheus, and I have no right to the Devil, he won’t develop a new plague variant because he’s a saint and his life on his hind legs to the smell of love does not raise a voice into the fog, a marionette of silence, knows that these are images and careful-ly wades around it, while it’s too early for us to go to the fire, we need other paybacks and the growth of boots is not the best than I can’t say anything I’m still this devil’s garden is not for us and not for the faint-hearted boots you are capricious like the darkness of the lord of buildings where you, sir, have already been carried away on the threshold of doubts and the joy of living I take you and make a horse out of you in you I distinguish it is not given and it’s not in vain that I don’t give you a couple but soon it will all be like a train in a kalei-do_scope window
you stupidly stink of a hairbrush, and about the money you’ll have to wait, because I’m sorry - I just don’t have time and, rightly so, from all points of view I know you, but with this _ we don’t think

we eat, we impudently stand on the sidelines when they don’t offend us, I myself convinced us that we can’t find time in this humble tavern and we don’t have time, it’s an illusion, the matrix of fun isn’t it somewhere we’ll go to the cinema, one time or another, but on all sides, Hail Mary, Hail Mary, he is born, he is not your child, he is the Devil, he is looking for some-one in

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