I do, actually. I am a fucking runner. Label 2, mother is 1, math absolute, variables, all the imaginary ones, in motion; undefinable a joke on you. “What would I do today,” hasn’t a clue, an X person account at what the hell o’clock, but 1 is schoolin’ the district, so 2 will rise over E emcee (po3t) squared, a formerly cubed bleeder. Besides, the internet is down and this is just my iPhone. Go.