| Probability | Text |
|---|
| 95% | Under the bamboo tree | ▶️ |
| 96% | We call the U-65. I have a fix on your current position, and I am directing assistance to your location immediately. Standby Father, help is on the way. Lieutenant, we have another team under attacking your mission sector. Proceed immediately to the coordinates I am transmitting to your chat map, and help them out. This is a priority override, but you are all previous objectives. Ari out. | ▶️ |
| 91% | AAAAA look at blindfold under the | ▶️ |
| 95% | around the park under | ▶️ |
| 97% | Under the bar | ▶️ |
| 95% | Lies! Only hate, greed and lies! Freeing under disguise of the so-called elite, it's a right to rule, but they will crumble down! Suddenly so well, all master leaders have been found and exposed to fool, and I gave up half sea! People follow when we, so innate of such a fact, still say we are lies! They have made their own choice! Obsessed by their wars, making countless promises a barely lies! Then we'll be there! To make the truth appear to their eyes! And let prayer will loosen straight! | ▶️ |
| 90% | returning from a funeral my lonely journey under the moon and stars filled with sorrow my soul it bears thousand scars with brilliant scales who has plates as far as I can see never returns faces of the dead haunted me | ▶️ |
| 95% | All things Christ the great God. Everything under control. Any morecharging words are not favorite. All all things Sodom and Savior. Personally, it's been Tourism. | ▶️ |
| 98% | And these over-credits conditions under which our people are forced to live eliminate all the sense for our normal home. | ▶️ |
| 97% | Sometimes the edge of the world is quite empty, except for the blue heron picking her way sure-footed, one long leg after another, at low tide inspecting the eelgrass. She is my secret, and my heart steps high and lightly with her. Sometimes the edge of the world is allied with children, the tide pools untidy with little boats, stone circles, the beach a whole noisy continent of castles. Sometimes the sun gets to going down there, out in the bay, the blue heron is sleeping, and the beach slides out from under us in molten gold and amber and burnished brass, and tips us over into darkness. | ▶️ |
