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| Topic: Impromtu | |
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Now the beer is gone,
And the marijuana done, I fall like a comet from the sky. A vague feeling that america is listening, Reminds me that these boxed up lives we lead, Are merely dreams in a circle. I go to my cooker, And cheer my self with pork loins and beans. But the joy will not last, Hopes and dreams are but a fantasy, There is no hope, No Balm, No ending to the grief. |
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always believe and welcome.Good write
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