The truth is you could slit my throat and with my one last dying breath i would apologize for bleeding on your shirt.
The sannleikur er þú ) rista minn háls og með minn einn síðastur deyjandi andardráttur ég vildi varnarræða fyrir fjandans á þinn skyrta.
The truth is you ) toast my cervix and with my single rearmost moribund breath I would disputation pay lip service to damn river thy shirt.