Надеюсь ты здохнишь от спида. use google if intresting

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He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Of music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a

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Gabriel skurwysynie oddej mmje mój rower kurwa co nim do centrali pojechałeś kurwa jego mać. Ja nim po horom curke muszem jeżdzić bo łona hora i musi leki jeść. masz oddeć mje mój rower bo cie policyjom poszczuje ty gałganie jedyn

+REP

panie dodaj do znaj

Крыса еще та