Z. wwhy are greazerz called that if they are not zuppozed to be fried and eaten that makez no zenze #gore #eatyourlocalgreazer .Z
hhnnmn, l thlnk... ltm lhgt just bw bwcausw thwy'rw grwasy pwoplw... havw you lookwd at thwlr halr... lts badd
They call them that cause they grease their hair. Like slick it back.
Bullshit. I wrote a poem about you being a dumbass here it is. A quiet, slow erosion of the light, He constructs his tower in the dead of night. With brittle bricks of certainty he builds, A void that only shallow thinking fills. No whisper of the void, no doubt, no fear, He holds the false-forged concept close and dear. He looks upon the ocean, speaks of sand, And traps the tide within his open hand. Yet calls it mastery—the fool's acclaim— And gives the wind a master's sounding name. To know the depth of what he does not see Requires a shattering of vanity. He finds comfort in the narrow, rigid line, And deems his dim reflection as divine. It is a solace, this, the quiet sleep, Where simple minds refuse to dive too deep. For why unwrap the wisdom of the sage, When folly keeps you safe within a cage? He walks the stage, a brightly painted jest, With confidence that puts all truth to rest. Yet there is majesty in such display, To burn the map and turn away from day. A deep, abiding, and profound mistake, For heaven's—or perhaps his own—own sake.