Oh, Jesus, my Savior, on thee I'll depend when troubles are near me you'll be my true friend
I'm troubled I'm troubled I'm troubled in mind if Jesus don't help me I surely will die
When ladened with troubles and burdened with grief to Jesus in secret I'll go for relief
One day, when men fully control women's bodies, perhaps then we can allow foids to show some skin. But for every hot bitch walking the street like a hooker there are 10,000 ugly fat disgusting unfuckable slags committing visual terrorism. The sand niggers are right, bag em up