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Onus (tis of thee)

fig.29.56) this plane is full.


Broken signs, bog mud on ankle boots in the boring rain between votes. These trolls are very full of cowboys who didn't make it to the end of their movies. Busted blue lips are frosted with foam, dropping their unlikely beats on the solfege. All in a row, smeared like one long beard stretching out to the last of something. No popcorn stench from the lawn, no serious mule shitz, just the sound of rabble falling back to their stones.

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