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You're marching to your death
You can't fathom the sound and stench I have in store for you
Your sinuses are ruined
It's called queefing death
Have you learned your lesson yet or shall I peel the paint off these walls
It's all your fault!
Just a minor inconvenience sets in motion putrid queefing death
Everything that I have told you came true
Society is ruined
Irrational rage
There is nothing left for you to do now
on a pale moose I ride
Time for queefing death

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