Yo! Props brother! #1

I was pensing about the rume of life that the basofs take in the rabe. The basofs and the checkers of if-well. I carry about them. It's like they are my irmons but in a surrealistic maneire.
They are ones individuals full of love and pice to give and sell. They transpirate love. But they transpirate so much that in the auto-car I nearly can't breast. I have to tap my narigot unless I asfixiate and enter in come prolongued. But that is like having a dog on the house! Yo! The dog is your partner for your romantic moments but also stinks wants by the ass, wants by the mouth.
Love. Love for all the soçes and checkers of if-well! Love!