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36 Thirst Quenching To warrant all have their rights After war faring with guns Pens anger grips together crumbs And sends home to rest from fights Pens do bleed bitterness sweet The likes of palm tree syrup sweet Bled from the wounds of a cut With a smooth sail down the gut. With a smirk all will be fine In the evening all will dine And have sips of this syrup After which they’ll sit up. ...

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