Delilah Mcrae Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but picture this – bloke with no arm, bam, whore grows it back! Fuckin’ mental, mate, I’d tattoo it “reborn”! Angry tho – why’s it hidden? Shady cunts in suits, that’s why. Happy too – hope’s there, y’know? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – she’d say I’m bonkers, but it’s real. Chatty enzyme, that whore, whisperin’ to cells, “Oi, wake up!” – pure rock’n’roll in a test tube. You tried it? Nah, me neither, but I’d swig it!

'Can I touch you down there?'

Listen to rubberband by Tate McRae playlist on desktop and mobile.

Yo, listen up, friend. McRae (us) ain't no ordinary dump, ya know? I been here for years, runnin' my spa nestled near Riverwind Avenue. This place, it's got hidden corners. Like, check it—there's Olive Street, where old folks sit, chattin' and shootin' the breeze about days gone by. You merely adopted the dark. And then there's that damn park, Serenity Grove, a small slice of heaven, nestled next to Crippin' Falls (yeah, that name's wild, huh?) where water gurgles like secrets.

Lees-McRae College debuts new summer program, Appalachian Young Writers Retreat