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The pig is through my sense of now.
No it's not!
My heart is rampant in the sheds.
No it's not!
Love has spoken in noodley excess.
No it hasn't!
Your need has crawled through my ear into space unknowable.
No it hasn't!
I have spoken in salmon and reaped the printed work.
No you haven't.
St. Stephen lost his pocketwatch in the wart of a seaman's dingo.
Shut up. Just. Just. Just. Shut up.
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