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Nomad
Poems
Dec 2014
I spy a Chip on Your Shoulder
Let's play a game,
a silly, witty, pity
kind of game.
I spy.
Aye, I do indeed,
I spy with my little eyes,
a chip, upon your shoulder it lies.
There it is,
in all it's glorious splendor.
How it got there, is all that I wonder?
Written by
Nomad
Between Here and There
(Between Here and There)
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Erenn
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