Bowl of cherries in Waskasio Creek. A sylvan way of life for those who seek None beyond a parkland mall. This land scape oasis now feigns city hall. And They call this peace. That's not how it seems to me. Sugar-coated disease. Buckle at the knees. Your members of Parliament lining their garments with Hides of the masses (THEIR heads stuck up their asses.) Bald little soldiers Flags sewn to their shoulders. This insight spawns despair. Why am I not part of this? Pine cone wealth and cedar-fence bliss? All your
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