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Parden is My Freudian Slip Showing Grasping ideas by the thought balloons twisting and turning by the winded clouds pull ears of madness from the hat's cocoon stalking kernels of truth through ancient shrouds free words fall into puddles of the self ripples of reflection swell in the throat caught in seizers from an unwilling delf tongues can't pronounce the taste of their own coat well worn placations keep the corners stoned on Nietzsche over sights pointing the wall with shadow puppets dogging past and cloned by doctored linguists fumbling through scrawl of creations retrospective within our makeup is made up layered in skin |
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