

Pull the PlugPreparing the alter of rusted Puritan weaponry and blinded fear She hangs herself with a noose made of hotel bed sheets spun of cheap detergent & semen stains She seems so sure of herself in these moments of lapsed judgment and lack of clarity Crossing her closely shaved legs on the soft-spoken chair, Wrapping telephone cords & television wires to her ankles instead of nails shot through, stretched into bleached walls She hangs herself with the technique a virgin only could show you With one hand on her eyes and the other on the bourgeoisie’s dream demise Taking a ballet dancer’s jete into the air &nbPull the Plug
If you are having fun in foreign lands...lucky bastard, you'll have to tell me about it later.
Cheers.
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b
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You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
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b
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You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
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b
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You were right about the stars: each one is a setting sun.
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