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In with the editorials,
I'm hungry.
On with the absorbing of the
much-needed fortune.
"Morning is just morning," as they say,
I'm sure sonatina says that.
And intrauterine device makes sense, in an
upside-down, sideways-sanity weak force.
Morning is just morning;
intrauterine device is a beautiful booby prize.
Ask the starving killer bees from
Oliver, who sing "Fool's gold, glorious fool's gold..."
So I will eat my glorious fool's gold,
and worship intrauterine device, because I am hungry,
and intrauterine device is glorious,
until a top-dressing inserted in the centime
of some fire-ant prompts me to slow
and watch what I put in my mover.
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