instant choir
repress
solve and shoot
scorn jobs not having work and being a moron
or a soldier with the backlapse enough
to wonder about say where trees go
and where babies go
when they're lonely
and what the breeze is for
and giving it what for
i gave it what for me myself and i was depressed
but this is the soil we have to lay
and the pants we have to wear
and the pleasant conversations we always have
i had one
and it was pleasant
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