No, you just want Jesus to be your type. ADMIT IT FUCKER.
No, you just want Jesus to be your type. ADMIT IT FUCKER.
But, for a certainty, back then,
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves...
Yet even then, we ran like the wind,
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies...
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