Lydia Raalte Whore ❤️❤️

About The Hague

Alright, so you wanna talk "whore"? Fine, let’s dive in—House style, baby. Everybody lies, right? Even whores. Especially whores. They’re pros at it—spinning tales to survive. Like in *Children of Men*, where hope’s a damn lie, but ya cling to it anyway. “We’re all screwed,” I’d tell ‘em, popping Vicodin like candy. Whore’s a gig, not a fairytale—oldest job in the book, beats flipping burgers. Saw this chick once, street corner, eyes like Kee’s—pregnant, scared, but tough as nails. “You’re not fooling me,” I’d growl. She’d smirk, “Pay me first, doc.”

The Mysteries of Filth

Sometimes you can get so caught up in the "virtue signaling" that you actually do harm to the www.facebook.com

After the match, I’m riding high. I hit up the local bar, and everyone’s cheering. I’m buying rounds, feeling like a champ. But then, I see Joris in that chicken suit again. I can’t stop laughing!

Marcel Coenen: Temple Of Rock, Raalte w/ POWERSLAVE