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How many wrongs can I write – before the minute hand breaks?

Pump the accelerator pedal push tha’ brakes. Tap it touch it timid dim lit eddy trickle rip a dribble lick a thistle whistle while you dial sonny – plaid like boys fly high on money slouchin’ boundin’ bunny pouncin’ women convincin’ confidence pinchin’ Zed-like demeanor be mean or be meaner look at this ‘r that ‘r her, anything for envy, Sir. Take a picture, take a pic, sure, take a picture, take a pic, sure. Imagine aging like some mage in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic inscription scratching memories with ease chisel tap bing bang rows in threes that’s how you spell Honey Bees

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