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Janis Joplin and Richard Farina Were Talking Till Now

Simple naming, blur sound. My dad had a table and Janis Joplin stood on it it and wild. Those days imagined a process of evaluation and moor. The rock of leaves and trees in water till lots of spaces between. When the number includes the endless vowel as testament of sorrow on the edge of time, timeless is a town by anything. Those days of just enough to loud, to over ear the letter of the Dad, generation. But in rations of slower down to word, you could say the structures were made to be resisted. And the Dad that had to turn away to die is a vetted program called life until you see the same same thing.  Dad your, sun, like it is that easy, down by the green wood.

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