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Green snouters on flipping stills, horn on the trees. Wind through skin, waves still upright, floating sideways over desks. Lamp still bleeds. overhead the sky is yet. Well as washes, the speakers walk slowly forwards, skull feet are crushed.
********OTTATREAL*********
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators soOOonnN, it aint me, it aint meEEE, I aint no fortunate oOONNE
