It seems to be cold in here, inside the empty head of You. The end of you. When you speak, your pink, pink pout Spouts out poison, and without a doubt, they believe in You. Idiot, well I know, yes I know, what this is about. I have most definitely figured you out. Behind your vile Smile, here is more teeth than I can count and a pair of Horns to go with your lying grin.