drifts from the opposite fort.
'This beetle suit can get away with murder,
shovel him out!'
Linear lines thrust
over other ending flames always folding
in a linear world without you.
How to solve the problem of reunion photographs, and
screaming cardboard women traveling on stage through the city,
[always folding, and]
rearranging Dyl's card table that is a third green and
she is smiling too much;
worry about this.
I'm not children
bushes on the hill
chorus line
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