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Apr 2012
I avenge the young
With my cheek in my tongue
And with the lyric of a silent cardboard man
We consume the rug
Beauty swollen as a bug
We will use all that we possibly can
They looked at us sour
Wealth fully to cower
And recoil to their sweet nesting clan
I assume the worst
As my bubble won’t burst
And acceptance has just hit the fan
Paul Rousseau
Written by
Paul Rousseau
628
 
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