<p class=”center”>Pass water on a dot?I can’t relieve you,my dear.You need a pot.
Do pass the fluck to me if you can beware to.You pig!I know your tart of man?be off.
He passed on the shit by letter.Uttering crap was his lust.He just couldn’t stand himself.Still you love them,you hate them;.it passes the flame.
He passed me with flying dolours;once a Catholic,always faintly guilty.In my case I truly passed out with flying colors.You see,the red knickers were half price?no-one else wore them.I don’t know why they were ever made, and no maid should have worn them.I was always out of the lurch of normality,if you grasp my scheming.I had a hare brain and no mind to speak to except my doll with no head? it fell off,unlike mine,that’s china for you.Potheads are a bad idea</p>
<p class=”center”>Please read under each line today
To take the path of least consistency is hard for mathematicians but post-Godel it’s just one more hurdle
Play as you go where?
His lips paid me such service,no-one since has matched his adroitness,yet he never knew my name?I was just one of a number of girl he loved in rotation; we were almost a constellation and definitely a consolation to each other united by hatred of the one we loved
Pray for the riper woman to be given a compliment
I just do not know how pray through the prose.
If he were not a man,I’d call him a bitch.</p>
<p class=”center”>He called me a deviant tart,if I recall nightly
Never wear pearls before wine is offered
Peel the onion with a running tap to stop your eyes running off
Can I put a pencil in your orifice?
They gave us a penny for each thought we had thunken.I remember it so mistily as I never knew thought before.I was an intellectual virgin at that time…9 am.Then they began coming</p>