Old.


FruitBombs and ButterBalloonsSwallow trees sway With the butterscotch wind Near the marshmallow fields And the gumdrop brushFruitBombs and ButterBalloons
Sadly we must pass For today's a new tale That your children will not know After the dastardly end
Not forty-three days Before the hollow man's pinned Those black-feathered wings Came to claim their pay
Bright lights and narrow brick roads Where feet touched ground The subtle sweet marsh Vanished twice before his eyes
The slow beating drums On the rooftops of gray Drowned out the sound Of the low shallow thum
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I like my sugar with coffee and cream.
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The artist will not fear the censor.
The great will not be constrained by the small.
(evan?)
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The artist will not fear the censor.
The great will not be constrained by the small.
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The artist will not fear the censor.
The great will not be constrained by the small.
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