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111 Extricated, Yet On The Fence O, what a magnificent country In a thorny calyx thrust! Could it rotate? Never shouldered were days promises. It tears us all; the sun’s blade. Yet, screened is our part. Has it stooges for heads; Jugglers and card master minders. But we care not turning, East their heads. Extricated some five revolutions before I came In town epicure remains their desire. Not to one tune I see them dancing; Gossips, whores, human hunters and hypocrites…. I see it on the fence this day. Dismal ability To turn theirs East, they turn ours West. Where are we? Home or out there? Captured is our phenotype Not genotype! Turn then heads East and be Home, Letting not the ill-baked mosquito in your earphone…. ...

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