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Like Sleeping in a tobacco box. from March 1995 (2011)

Like sleeping in a tobacco box, keeping the chrome in the scrap,a school of aquatic words are pooled into the nets fine trap. Maybe I can touch heel my car, possibly live in a box,here comes the society hounds there goes a terrified fox. I could do with out all the bloody rot, select what I watch on the box,I could stop eating meat, start walking bare feet, or cut of the weight of my locks. I , You ,We and How.We put on our gloves and box, or fashion a broom and fly from this room, oh bless my sweet holihocks. Sullen, Swollen, leaden and a little egotistic. Hide under a rock but say the right thing, tickle my spring and Ill jump right out of my box.



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