1900
1
For all the nonsense not to listen but continue,
A priceless grave from the loins of opinion,
Deeper emotions from the trustee pouring it on,
Excavating my cell’s hide of the pond,
U erase the thoughts only centered in the field,
A jack of trades with slaves to build,
Henchmen upset, the back, she came, is not what she’s been giving it too,
We go arranged to rub into what U erase as stern missing is not with U.
U know I know she aint putting nothing down to what they don't know what she is doing, Frenches number one casserole for looting.
