![Flashback: You’re looking at a winter of death for yourselves and your families [1674x2234 - 85KB]](https://pic8.co/sh/7fC78P.jpg){kind=link}
I don't know about you, but I died 197,262.8 times this winter.
I don't know about you, but I died 197,262.8 times this winter.
Shit, you must be jewish. Or at least you count like a jew.
Shit, you must be jewish. Or at least you count like a jew.
I'm stupid. It's in my name.
I'm stupid. It's in my name.
... jewish counting because you exaggerated deaths and counted deaths that never happened, because jews lied about the holocaust. Its funny. please clap.
...
jewish counting because you exaggerated deaths and counted deaths that never happened, because jews lied about the holocaust.
Its funny.
please clap.
Now that is impressive.
Now that is impressive.
I say if you're going to do something, do it to the point where people go "Wow!"
I say if you're going to do something, do it to the point where people go "Wow!"
I'm most impress by the 0.8, that's over three quarters dead.
I'm most impress by the 0.8, that's over three quarters dead.
I like to take things slowly in life, so I die over the course of a whole day. I'm up to 0.88 right now.
I like to take things slowly in life, so I die over the course of a whole day. I'm up to 0.88 right now.
lmao
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
lmao
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
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