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Jul 2010
You've planted a ***** seed in me.
It has reduced my heart's capacity
and the way I've found these words
has become a blur.

These spastic spasm fits of venting
are a waste of human space.
So come on, baby- take a listen.
Fill your head with noise pollution
to float on your merry way.

I'm adjusting to a new found wisdom:
a way to **** this frequent nuisance.
By the way, didn't anyone tell you?
We're running out of time.

This is a constant double-standard battle.
and don't you love the way I dabble?
This is a free-for-all that I'm claiming.
Now it's mine.
Written by
Nick Burns  Ash Tree Lane
(Ash Tree Lane)   
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