Dofskyefsky is Calling

Dofskyefsky, the sun pours slowly over the horizon for you as they grab me, pull my hair and slit my throat publically. They want to be termed gypsy, but they are just porsine JEW. My love for you grows as your hatred is semented in my veins. I bow to your knowledge, wisdom, and insight in this realm and category. I grow so weary of the shakes their attacks take on me. Alone in the wilderness, I have never seen them as clean, but it was Muncie where I learned what JEW does mean. I was a brisk 35 years old and fable does not measure up to the table of that zone and SHoah moan. I am caressed by a merchant now, who does not know what to do, but I always do. I turn to you and World War II. We become one and the thesis is done. We cook them in the ovens like a yeastless bun. They are boring and never rare, and soon these little piggies will have no hair. Contact all you like, I think tonight there will be a tax hike. There are Gestapo in vicinity who wish to be witty. Come climb a mountain with me, Joseph, and we will delve in to the insides of a cow. I am in no mood for mercy now. I am the effect that makes a standard of effective. Listen to one line and you will find yourself protected. The they in your mind is unkind, so rewind to mine and see once again. Nickolai go behind the eye of Crime and Punishment and see that he is the one for me who is heaven sent. Stay away and play no more. Knock at the door and be let in only a small percent of the time. It is a shrew who always knows what to do. I am chained, in this space, to him. It is okay to hate his face, but leave the flowers for me.