Treading Back To The Studio…

Well, I guess all the busybody shit that needed to be done for now is, done. The fun fleeter of guise and gargantuan mold mental is now not handicapped by any traverse or dynamic destinations. Truly, these are quiet tymes for a taunted brain. Now. Anyway. Fleeting? Barely I am told in accord but Hej, who said you can’t jack off the cock of good wisdom and ultraviolet enrichment? Masons do it, at 1,000 points of light, Witches swoon per Innana’s gasp and Cats, well, they purr to call us faggots.

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Feeling Lucky?!

Tell the Planet! Now!!

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