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Bring out the reams of broken dreams so we can charter buses to hell. Do tell, my friend, of promises fallen to shade. Ancient tales of rust, of lust left unsated. Holes dug left unfilled. A vacant grave for words left unspoken.

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Written by

critter-khan

For You?

Written by

critter-khan

Published: Oct 19, 2011
LinesWords: 842

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