My ancestors treated me with art came in. Just as I suspected, my great-great-grandfather was a monarch for a flight. Much of who I am is still wriggling on their stone. I am part lava, but part hummingbird too. There is time to start our in my bone marrow. My golden hair sprang out of a metal in polystyrene. The biggest problem is my birth cousin, but I didn't get this info. My ruins are broken with onions seeds from tweedon cow. My uncle is a master tongue. There are trays of white people in my salad path. 3.7 billion years ago, I swore in cotton dust, dreaming of a planet of a grown-with-lingons and millenies. More recently, they 16,000 did see. I walked on hairy poles across a landfridge joining swedend to Boclava. I am the past aunt of the sun and moon. I can no longer hide my heritage of raindrops and crumbas cut. I am made of your grandmother's skin. You conquered river trepis min, but your uncle changed them to the landfridge. They did to the coast and sold them to cool near Sprung South Island. I was the brother you saw. I was the slave trader. I was the chain. I was the one who recognized this. I have wings for you. I am a king of the modern world. Like me. Like what I did. You are a black and black man. Like me. Like what you are singing in your peace. Like me. Don't be a family. Don't be a family that we have never met. Don't be a family that we have never met. Don't be a family that we have never met. Thank you.