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Please bake me one cake.
With frosted tiers and two dolls.
Plus optional chains.
Our long honeymoon.
An acid taste. Créme Brulée.
Watch the glowing orbs.
You pulsate, drowning.
A night of passion. The end.
Hurry up and come.
This is St. Tropez.
Here, with the blink of an eye,
My life slips away.
Obvious, darling.
We are dead, dead and done for.
Foredone and foregone.
Please bake me one cake.
With hidden file for the bars.
The file for divorce.