'What do they stare at when they sit still in a hideous bedroom? What fleshy compartment do they fill when peeking through keyholes?' The young lady quizzes so much. A disgusting changeling is deceiving her innocence, while she sings some lovely, crescent notes.
'Why can't the audience notice such ghastly display of sorrow?'. That was the last question. And her burden became wrath. So she gouged their eyes out.
She implored her confidant to not look through the keyhole, then said to him: 'Please, take a seat. I've made it comfortable just for you. Running away will take me longer than I thought. I promise I'll get there.'
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