Hi son

We wait for time to trust the way inside today there is no play with covers trust and Mason God I failed to see the prison why I love your name it makes me sane I give you the present thing and every way I see the night I cover time with present life you wait for someone to crave you a lot and master fades how are you I am your master

 

faded line of man have you not seen the place of my hand I cover and soon I trust the pace of hand the pastor face I crave the faint of mine tonight or in the words I speak are the ways I sire when time is gone and frames are leaving I know deceiving it makes me see either don't cover your eyes from my site give me the ways of your heart can I see your eye

 

there is no time to waste inside I give your name to Place tries winter weight inside in the garage waiting in the lines of trust in the fear of man filters in the way of you sign after my life and I making my life just trust say is Ayman in wang I say

when favor Ayman becomes a shower this day is the man is it Burke anyways his heart of his trust I will now today I die inside my heart and wait for sign to play my heart I am a part of a live chat the fate of his hand in the waste of his heart face she covers her soon

 

lying man my heart your time is scepter in the place of July review this man and he seems like a parent to elucidate feeling of guilt in his heart hey Shane and I warned her in his heart please of my heart we are in our presence we are simply the gift of the master do you still wish in my pain

 

Pastor seems his mother song I've become I did Nile.

 

when the favor of his hand leads to the pain of his trust pastor will fade into the rile up his breast and the weight of his time becomes a handle on his van with the line is the power of the master I name you are God your son I see pain you see wait to face the light is power in the mason I give you my love and I wait for you here in this place making the light of his pain at the light of his heart with the weight of the same becomes like a pain in his chairIn the waste of design is the gun in his rest and I wore I will really see this came in the place of his own making time for the light with the feeding glory of the peace in his heart becomes the pain of his Liz the shallot a biscuit insert a lien Mary's son in his shown me recent ocelot game Avis I'm shot

 

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