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autoclavic dream weld
leather driver gloves
grip grim
his snarl stitches in this
light the chin
her youthful pursed
pause mouth complex
the city landscape
starts to stretch
siren receeding
night climbs reeling
rescesitating a moon
gone blue
blown out the life
the spells brew
the morning street
washer will blast
post scene gloves
and wraps
and punks getting
high on rolls
of the gravy
dreaming of tapping
the new fresh with
the umbro in navy