My Lovely Alison

I dance and sing and bring me to me. The wicked begin to circle again with their witchy movements. What happens when all you ladies (or predominantly gay men) lose your hair? There is no intelligence underneath there. My study has gleaned a team of choice. That would be team Edinbrough. Creativity and humor is this crew and never will they back down from a fight. What happened to my guide and friend Alison Smyth from my journey to Edinbrough? She is in the stratosphere and maybe is the answer to retardation American football today. She knows that she, and hers, do not feel, thus you are all the same. You will be her puppets on a string with whatever accent she chooses that day. I knew nothing when I met her, and seemingly LESS, when I journeyed to her home village of Edinbrough. She was like my brother Peter, but she travelled abroad to a very dangerous cult land of Shoreview, MN, at the age of sixteen and lived with my sister's boyfriend Steve. She knew it and taped everything. Her family all housed me for the week I was there. She may have thought that I didn't care. I just didn't understand and my affect is a bit flat from brain damage primarily from "Maxwell's" silver hammer on Oahu. I am tired of coding what I say, Alison. I miss you, and would love to see you again. You, me, and Anne could openly take on the jews and nasty locals of 1029 Bar. My movements are natural. Maybe you could tell me what they mean in that level of witchery. Love, Hope