You Can Still Die When

We Are An Unfortunate Priest-ridden Race And Always Were And Always Will Be Tell The End Of The Chapter.... A Priest-ridden Godforsaken Race.

Hell Is The Centre Of Evils And, As You Know, Things Are More Intense At Their Centres Than At Their Remotest Points.

Our Souls, Shamewounded By Our Sins, Cling To Us Yet More, A Woman To Her Lover Clinging, The More The More. She Trusts Me, Her Hand Gentle, The Longlashed Eyes. Now Where The Blue Hell Am I Bringing Her Beyond The Veil? Into The Ineluctable Modality Of The Ineluctable Visuality. She, She, She. What She?

I'd Love To Have The Whole Place Swimming In Roses

You Can Still Die When The Sun Is Shining.