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Lyric is Simple Enough, You Toads

At first, no poetry could exist because jungle and alibi and webs. Then a desert tent. Then wind.

The pressures arrive with birds. This is not the same nature that met us on the tracks. The news has flowers after all. The Flying Bus streaks across Thinking.

And then, just For poetry, something leaves behind. It can no longer Carry the fame of distraction. The character of lush precinct cools the town.


The Flying Bus of Okay now presumes a new. A day of spectacle eyes arises.

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