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Just because the rose beats our blood, Why does the violet come second? I’m sure the lizard loves it warmer Cold. His heart flies in a square, blue box. They should sacrifice blue ribbons in Stead. Martyrdom looks clean, sans crimson, Sans blood at all, then we’re murdering Statues, already dead, beaten me- Tal, standing without legs or organs. Sheba, just part of the whole shebang, You look so depleted, staunchly there, Staunchly not, and somehow I wonder Whether you’d like the b or the a Better, or nursery rhymes at all. -BRD
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Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 11:03 PM UTC
Violets Aren’t Blue
Just because the rose beats our blood, Why does the violet come second? I’m sure the lizard loves it warmer Cold. His heart flies in a square, blue box. They should sacrifice blue ribbons in Stead. Martyrdom looks clean, sans crimson, Sans blood at all, then we’re murdering Statues, already dead, beaten me- Tal, standing without legs or organs. Sheba, just part of the whole shebang, You look so depleted, staunchly there, Staunchly not, and somehow I wonder Whether you’d like the b or the a Better, or nursery rhymes at all. -BRD
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Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 11:03 PM UTC
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