Ff=66 کے بول

(He invites the storm. He lives by instinct, with fears that are not fears, but prickles of ecstacy.) This code is cracked! I don't expect whatever I spat out to stick awash in the signs, sick from the lack. Spliced in, spliced in second-hand words and screen for skin. Forcing out sounds, facing outside again. Reified and refined, blurring every line. Just want a way not to be what gets sold to me. FF=66 explains you're sick. Spins on the axis od promise and lick lack luck reveals all tricks.