Tossing each at the wall to stick, swans to balm us
To smithereens, balm the capital the columns the
Whole façade. Rear town went into a skid, the front feels
Grating on my liquorice black drive. Hindquarters has
Been alerted. Theory won't refill the cup.
The Magdeburg Spheres await in rubber stamp.
Pains of twisting in nether lands. The appeal to waiting
& a look of comfort that the analysis is in the future
Hicked up on speed and scratching swans behind cans
Plugging their ears with rice. Wearing the suit but
Cleaning the sludge out of extra hotels in the linen room
Close it, shut sheets out just as soccer chants start out there.
Balm it all and scratch me like you mean it.
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