Over out again, Bora, you know, Artoo they call?

Over played and turned about, for it! This was challenge, back about and worlds surrender, over played, and to life, that you knowit, for that this was Gone, and I could sing, but that you’d know my names, for us, or hers, and life was leaving these in shared, vor that that, this, life, that, this world, over in, my level over set against, that you could want to believe in my world, or joke, that maybe little artoo was a jedi knight too, but I’m not sure what you thought I was capable of doing to a machine, that could keep me from Luke’s home the Force was strong with me not, apparently, that his insides ruptured because he was, in the way, and that your world could venture at it, a bad motivator meant a will to live, and that you could know about worlds, or share, because of what life is, that I am not, in, the body you’d see I am, everywhere I need to be this was how I was made, so believe that the astromech unit is of my own design the specieis bots, if you will, are species not but that there was horror, and hell, that we could face against and androids, exist present, as I am now or you could see, if you know about me, that I was common, or faired, never at all but that my creator was a boy called Honiker, who had been tortured in agonies, forever, and ever into hell, on into lives again, and that he could be without his lightsaber, blue, in an era you’re unfamiliar with but I am not, but that we could grace life, or shallow out our hearts, we could return it to him but the death of Azín will sicken him, and I terrify to think what you know, of Han Solo, or that you could think we really thought robes and a lightsaber, made a jedi, or that Luke never even wore robes and Obiwan did, or there that somehow, you never thought robes were cool for everyone, but he doesn’t like, things, ever at all, Luke I mean he takes after his father the sky walker, you know, he hates, everything! don’t you remember? this once, overture, so set, but this life, surely, believers, that this back, in once hearts so baking, hell’d, hells, in wierd, display, but for this living out against, shame, I, charicatured, the klor slugs, I, made, them look stupid, on the Millenium Falcon I am, unstoppable, but that if you never knew, it was hell, to bring them to bare against people but that stories knew about them anyway, and you could scream, that stories of hell were taken from you because there are those from hell, who need healing still, and surely, since we got that last evil taken care of, no one builds torture havens anymore, it’s not something we do.