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How do the nights go? Chillin' down there with the white folk/ Ne'er be a token given I'm golden so I might just bolt:/ Usain; when I'm lazy talent swishes down the drain like bad milk/ Ain't cry o'er **** that I spilt, rose from the concrete ne'er wilt/ Narrowly lost my mind sometime ago in this flow/ like slave boats from the Gold Coast with wood creaking dream-songs of lost homes/ I was drowning in unconscious streams of different scenes of this mind's scenes/ I seen through the scenes of green trees turned to yellowing leaves.../
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Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Poem.
How do the nights go? Chillin' down there with the white folk/ Ne'er be a token given I'm golden so I might just bolt:/ Usain; when I'm lazy talent swishes down the drain like bad milk/ Ain't cry o'er **** that I spilt, rose from the concrete ne'er wilt/ Narrowly lost my mind sometime ago in this flow/ like slave boats from the Gold Coast with wood creaking dream-songs of lost homes/ I was drowning in unconscious streams of different scenes of this mind's scenes/ I seen through the scenes of green trees turned to yellowing leaves.../
tawandamulalu
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Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
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