| Current mood: | nervous |
| Current music: | the new thursday; stolen off the internet |
i want to write a book for you, i'll type you a mystery a cunning account of espinoge, like the fear you see in me and i'll be the one who did it, say the dialouge you believe i want to set the dedication in a font, only you can read i'll take that book, crease each page go front to back, in just one day photocopy from end to start, and mail the masterpeice to the intersection of our hearts.
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