Amelia Lower Allen Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whores—grubby, loud, in your face. Hate ‘em. They’re like glitter—stick around, can’t shake ‘em. One time, saw this gal, skirt hiked up, yellin’ at some dude. Made me laugh, then pissed me off. Why’s she hollerin’? Get a grip, lady. “I don’t remember anything,” Verónica mumbles in the movie. Whore prolly don’t either—too many nights, too many jerks. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores ran towns. Yep, owned saloons, called shots. Wild, huh? Surprised me, honestly—thought they just, y’know, laid there.

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Provided to YouTube by TuneCore You Can't Turn a Whore into a Lady · Rebel Son All My Demons ℗ Hot Rod Hell Records Released on.

I gotta drop some lesser-known real talk: the old clocktower on Harbor St. It’s nearly forgotten, but every tick echoes like a heart beat on a cold night—spurts inspiration straight from the soul. Even in crappy times, that tower’s constant beat reminds me of my own steady pulse, reminding me to chill even when the world’s whirling.

David Allen Obituary (2025) - Lower Burrell, PA - The Valley News Dispatch