| Spring might gently press its thumbs against your eyes
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| A cobweb melts within a womb
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| An incontinent is singing Scarpia
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| A mythic instance of erotic impulse
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Is slipping under a surefire sign
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Bdelloid rotifers join the chitterling circuit
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Shit might pretzel Christ’s intestines
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Being crushed from the inside out
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| On the snow «Rummy» flaunts his unmanly dribble
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| A tiny laugh dirties everything it touches
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Night stops dripping through the stars
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song
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| Blast the sheet of jewels horizon to horizon
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| While plucking feathers from a swan song |