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When a potter raise crunch
though with a hunch
soon will be a bystander
they eye a ricochet cyst
round skin that summon Alexander
the glaze cleave an arm
and this idle their crafts
let inside hand again stroll  
that wing a cafe by night
and purpose their hutch
still in a penitentiary
near a dock by parliament it charm
an aft-glow where melancholy
heart departing the moon
here yet a parole by noon
though still it ample tonight
with auxiliary light it toll
but debt show this dolor
they won't tolerate anymore.

— The End —