It's what I can't explain I find it hard to do. Know I could remind myself. And when I think I'll wait know it's what I do. Wish I could remind myself.
Bite the hand that feeds your face. One more thing you can replace. Shut my mouth because Im. . Spilling all your dirty secrets. . Slap the wrist of this embrace.
Hi, I have a message to April LaPine from America's heartland. Socks go on your feet, not your arms. If God wanted 'em on your arms, he would've put. Little finger things on 'em or whatever, alright, that's all.