o homie, u whisper, ur legs trembling & ur seminal vesicles filling with semen
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Poast new message in this thread
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Date: June 30th, 2026 3:37 PM Author: Pale Office
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5878537&forum_id=2phpsessid=49d358651c#49971598) |
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