"𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓻𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭;
𝓘 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓮𝓷𝓭.
𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓻𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓮:
𝓘 𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽, 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓸𝔀.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼,
𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 & 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼:
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼,
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓲𝓽𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝔀 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.
𝓣𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓮,
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮.
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓮,
𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓮;
𝓘𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓭 𝓘 𝓼𝓮𝓮;
𝓜𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮."
-𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖒 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖐𝖊
Backup Account: @abintra333
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