Panthers! Pow! Pow!
Panthers
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if i die in a car crash call it sculpture, the brash result of a failed suicide.
im the makeout king of valhalla and the brooding son of a gun.
cant fault the drummer if hes got none. you never gave him some.
come on, come on, bring it back around. come on, come on, i dare you to get down. get off. kiss yourself.
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