Lily Verduron Whore ❤️

About Paris

Oh, and here’s a kicker—some say “whore” comes from old English, meanin “lover.” Ain’t that a twist? Love twisted up, sold for a buck. I chuckle, thinkin Ruby’d say, “Bob, you softie, pass the gin!” Sarcasm’s her shield, y’know—she’d roll her eyes at my gentle trees talk. But I’d paint her anyway, all reds and blacks, fierce as hell. Them prudes clutchin pearls? Screw em—she’s livin, they’re just watchin.

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Its tongue-in-cheek story requires an energetic choir, telling of a mademoiselle in distress. The French text is repetitive and easy to learn, and an English text line is included. The rhythmic .

First off, I hit the streets of Verduron, right? Strolled down Rue de la République, feelin’ all fancy. The sun was shinin’, and I was ready to grab a croissant. But guess what? The bakery on the corner was outta ‘em! Can you believe that? I mean, who runs outta croissants in the morning? I was like, “C’mon, people! This is France!”

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