A song profoundly reflects on the first two worlds, so this is the day of the new drama, and I'm going to write the rest of it, thanks to the treasures! Come on, sweeties, give it a rating. The new book's been published: I'm bending the hostess after wearing the book, and the column's moving in to get criticized by the Time and Space Agency for maligning the target. Walking across the world, trying to wrap all kinds of gold fingers into couriers, giving them to the hostess, and pulling a wave of hate values to make a profit. But it's strange to be dressed, and the moon is a little strange, and the lady looks at her in the wrong way, and soon, she'll be blacked out. What about the law of death? Flower moon: Can I talk to you earlier? Woman: Flowers, if you die, I'll have everyone buried with you. Flower Moon: I think I'm still alive. WOMAN: Good girl. Later. Flower Moon: Hello? Is the hostess here? Is she a delivery? The moon pointed to itself: delivery, I am. "A new-born masked singer. ♪ I'll be damned ♪