My handbasket swinging hard wire act cut quietly inside a forest of ladies legs, she’d loved ‘Oblivious’ too much
I’m living short minutes in five-aisles, saw swagger carrying an oily jet black haired he-man with a heterosexual he-man soulmate
Two he-men from the past, and that one, the second-in-command, was the pacing soul behind me before when I’d spoken ‘tobacco’ to a wondering shop girl – ‘why was I wet from rain?’
This cursed pair, he-man number one had drawn a finger across his throat when I was younger, the other shared the quiet

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