And how there are only cages for those who know it
Trees in forests
Days in phantom months
Lives in lost colonies
We headed north or west and brought our loaded prefixes
Not meals
Not means
But yes yes something old
Another old thing and another building the first fence in the English countryside
Essentially
Here a waterslide long after the Days of Waterslides
Here a bottomless pit with nary a heroine in sight
Here a scenic view
And here
And here
And here
Everything has a way of becoming everything
Look at the sky
It’ll tell your story
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