Caporegime
Hello you!
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth. And indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory. This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! How like an angel in apprehension. How like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither. Nor woman neither.
We're in strange times.
And then we have this absolute banger, Patrick Swizzle off his nut at the end, he can barely lip-synch, the moron, so hot:
but also good people:
I hope you're looking after yourselves. Be like a god.
Mags x
I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth. And indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory. This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! How like an angel in apprehension. How like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither. Nor woman neither.
We're in strange times.
And then we have this absolute banger, Patrick Swizzle off his nut at the end, he can barely lip-synch, the moron, so hot:
but also good people:
I hope you're looking after yourselves. Be like a god.
Mags x