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Corey Hudson

Does your chain hang low? Does it wobble to and fro? Do it shine in the light? Is it platinum is it gold? Does your chain hang low?

Or, rather, is it solid steel? Heavy as hell, metal, iron and real? Your visions are escapades of the present’s sight. And their methods are reshaping all your means and might. A tangenting badass, herculian strength, this too may pass, but not without length.

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