Miaow-miaow
I hanged here
Like the belt
The leather kind of sourish jelly
The flint
Make the smoke of me
Stop your fire
Or burn if youŽre young
The man always has everything
Closed
My poor visionary is closed in the
Poem
Miaow-miaow
The child of the warm place
Shut up your mouth
Or heŽll eat you
I hanged
Like on a cross
On the fresh linen
An easy boy
In the heart of the cold walls
Miaow-miaow
The trembling of the stereos
La
La
Lovely
IŽll taste you whole
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