Turns On My soleness, my improbability, my genius, my sickness, my touching of me, myself and I frequently, slowly and acutely. Me. Just Me. Space...ice balls 3 meters in diameter.. lethal feathers of turquoise honey.
Turns Off The smell of plastic when it burns at 4:41AM on Thursdays at crossroads where you can meet the Devil and sell him a soul for your desires.
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