Tu as pens que j'tais ce type: Que tu pourrais m'oublier, et que je parlerais en faveur et pleurerais et me jetterais sous les sabots d'une jument de compartiment,
Ou cela je demanderais aux sorciers du breuvage magique magique fait partir des racines et t'enverrais un cadeau terrible: Mon mouchoir parfum prcieux.
Te damner ! Je n'accorderai pas vos larmes maudites de Vicarious d'me ou un regard simple.
Et je jure toi par le jardin des anges, je jure par l'icne miracle-travaillante, et par le feu et la fume de nos nuits: Je ne reviendrai jamais toi.
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