| Probability | Text |
|---|
| 98% | CUNY GUYS AHEAD ON THE FIRST PLACE Again he tries to win the race Cuz that's what his job is But the purpose, the auto one at the top Is to green guy with the big mouth And back on the girls thigh Joins CUNY in a fight Cuz he might be right Then I spell a dynamite To become a man in first place He attacks CUNY if he race Shoot your phone, what is gonna Set some rhymes for the purple face You got a look in his face When he disappears on the track Not with the hippity the B king or the mac But it get spanned Said it get back to the second black of the track | ▶️ |
| 100% | There are two ways I have an open. Even those I've yet to look silent. The call you sought may not be the answer. Maybe I should come back. | ▶️ |
| 99% | I think I'm going for a walk! You're not phoning anyone, you know. Look, there's no something you can do. | ▶️ |
| 99% | 1187, Hunter-Voss. That's the hotel, what? Where I live? Nice place, I sure guess. Is that part of the test? No, just warming up, that's all. It's not fancy or anything. You're in a desert, walking along in the sand when all this is the test now? Yes, you're in a desert, walking along in the sand when all of a sudden you look at it. What world? What desert? Doesn't make any difference what desert is completely hypothetical. But after my breathing, maybe you're fed up. Maybe you want to be by yourself, who knows? You look down and you see a tortoise, Leon. It's crawling towards you. Tortoise? What's that? You know what a turtle is? Of course. Same thing. Never seen a turtle. But I understand what you mean. You reach down and you flip the tortoise over on his back, Leon. You make up these questions, Mr. Holden, and they write them down for you. The tortoise lays on his back, his belly baking in a hot sun beating his legs trying to turn himself over, but it can't. Not without your help. Would you not help him? What do you mean I'm not helping? I mean you're not helping. Why is that Leon? They're just questions, Leon. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke an emotional response. Shall we continue? Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind. About your mother? My mother? Yeah. Let me tell you about my mother. | ▶️ |
| 98% | 1187, Hunter-Voss. That's the hotel, what? Where I live? Nice place, I sure guess. Is that part of the test? No, just warming up, that's all. It's not fancy or anything. You're in a desert, walking along in the sand when all this is the test now? Yes, you're in a desert, walking along in the sand when all of a sudden you look at it. What world? What desert? Doesn't make any difference what desert is completely hypothetical. But after my breathing, maybe you're fed up. Maybe you want to be by yourself, who knows? You look down and you see a tortoise, Leon. It's crawling towards you. Tortoise? What's that? You know what a turtle is? Of course. Same thing. Never seen a turtle. But I understand what you mean. You reach down and you flip the tortoise over on his back, Leon. You make up these questions, Mr. Holden, and they write them down for you. The tortoise lays on his back, his belly baking in a hot sun beating his legs trying to turn himself over, but it can't. Not without your help. Would you not help him? What do you mean I'm not helping? I mean you're not helping. Why is that Leon? They're just questions, Leon. In answer to your query, they're written down for me. It's a test designed to provoke an emotional response. Shall we continue? Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind. About your mother? My mother? Yeah. Let me tell you about my mother. | ▶️ |
| 98% | How big can these things get? Look there, I... I'm sorry. It's not like old times here for a second. | ▶️ |
| 100% | which dares not look upon the image of an innocent naked child who famicizes by the tempting beauty of the horror of bad wine. | ▶️ |
| 97% | Let's go Who's the center, center, center Look out, it's music We're not getting bored | ▶️ |
| 100% | So pale and sad was the look on their face, Leaving in this scream and forbidding place, Disturbing news from the fears not far away. Was room all terror a black firebird? A match of storms some did not return. | ▶️ |
| 95% | That's not what you look like. | ▶️ |
