Відео

This helps me

chet Baker is the goat

this music gives you: +500% pedophilia, +100% Hate to Women, +200% Homophobic, +250% Anti-Democratic Thinking, +10000000% Anti-Science Thinking

dumb pedo music

The background looks like a Soviet tank. I thought: "Damn, this bishop battles against satan for real...." !!

May God Bless those before us and after us. Amen

Number 13 is masterpiece

Drinking vodka crying about how I fuck everything up thanks for the playlist

Her eyes told me everything.... Those cold green eyes... She was there in the light... A contrast to the pitch blackness of her and my soul.... Those eyes... They held stories untold, of love that once burned bright and turned to ash. The emerald depths flickered with the ghosts of laughter and the echoes of tears. They were the windows to a soul that had danced in the sun and walked through storms. In the silence of the night, her presence was a whisper of the past, a reminder of what it meant to feel everything and then nothing at all. The raindrops traced the contours of her face, like tears the heavens shed in mourning for lost youth and faded dreams. And there, in the soft glow of the streetlight, she was a silhouette of memories, a living portrait painted with the brushstrokes of time. Her gaze was a challenge, a question, a plea for understanding. As the world around us slept, we stood in the quiet aftermath of the storm, two souls reaching across the void of our shared solitude. And in her eyes, I saw the reflection of my own journey-the search for meaning in the chaos, the yearning for a connection that transcends the mundane. Those eyes, those cold green eyes, were a mirror and a mystery, and I knew then that our paths were intertwined by the intricate tapestry of life, each thread a story, each hue a feeling. And as dawn approached, with the promise of a new beginning, I realized that sometimes, the most profound connections are those that are felt, not spoken.

Her eyes told me everything.... Those cold green eyes... Those emeralds shewed the blasphemous feeling of nothingness... The rain oh the rain was adorning her... I then remembered the dayz of love... The dayz of being young... The daze.... She was there in the light... A contrast to the pitch blackness of her and my soul.... Those eyes... They held stories untold, of love that once burned bright and turned to ash. The emerald depths flickered with the ghosts of laughter and the echoes of tears. They were the windows to a soul that had danced in the sun and walked through storms. In the silence of the night, her presence was a whisper of the past, a reminder of what it meant to feel everything and then nothing at all. The raindrops traced the contours of her face, like tears the heavens shed in mourning for lost youth and faded dreams. And there, in the soft glow of the streetlight, she was a silhouette of memories, a living portrait painted with the brushstrokes of time. Her gaze was a challenge, a question, a plea for understanding. As the world around us slept, we stood in the quiet aftermath of the storm, two souls reaching across the void of our shared solitude. And in her eyes, I saw the reflection of my own journey-the search for meaning in the chaos, the yearning for a connection that transcends the mundane. Those eyes, those cold green eyes, were a mirror and a mystery, and I knew then that our paths were intertwined by the intricate tapestry of life, each thread a story, each hue a feeling. And as dawn approached, with the promise of a new beginning, I realized that sometimes, the most profound connections are those that are felt, not spoken.

The rain was relentless, like the city itself, never giving you a moment's peace. It was the kind of rain that didn't just fall; it invaded, seeping into every crack and crevice, into the souls of the weary. The streets glistened under the glow of the neon signs, each droplet reflecting the sins of the city. I pulled my collar up, the brim of my hat low. This wasn't just another night; it was a reckoning. The kind of night that could wash away the filth, or drown you in it. My footsteps echoed in the empty alley, a slow rhythm to the chaotic symphony of the downpour. She said she'd meet me here, at the corner of desperation and hope, where the light flickers and the shadows hold court. I could see her silhouette now, a dark figure against the backdrop of the city's despair. She had a secret, one that could turn the tide or sink us all. As she stepped into the light, the rain seemed to pause, as if even the heavens were holding their breath. "It's time," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the noise like a knife. "Time to end this." And with those words, the city's heart skipped a beat, and I knew there was no turning back. This was the moment of truth, where the past and the future collided, and only one thing was certain: by dawn, nothing would be the same.

Christ is king

What does "Chad Orthodox Chants" mean?

AVE CHRISTUS REX AMEN! ☝️✝️☦️