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Death-throws May 2015
doth hate yourself ***,
for an *** with mind is still an ***
flaunting about the property of knowlege,
like every little gasp, saves you from laughing stock

doth Bring yourself justification
for beeing such an ***'
and though you seem a *****,
my lady your still a lass

So bring to me the right kind,
of liquid, intoxicating
and sit back and smile, as i lie here,

— The End —