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Pour the hourglass sand in the rusted tin can |
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the looking glass man dressed in robes from Japan |
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The chauffeur of the van with the globe in his hand, |
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The roller coaster lands in the ocean |
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Alas, the commotion is matched by the force of the splash, |
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The source of the blast was a porcelain gat |
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The orphan in rags, |
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a fraudulent match for the torturous wrath of the horseman in black |
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The sorcerer laughs, |
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Foes in the bath with a cauldron of rats, gone in a flash |
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The forces of life, |
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Absorbed in a fight with the wrong and the right, |
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The author was typing, the water was icy, the slaughter was pricey |
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the martyr was light-skinned with chartered indictments that started in high school |
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His father was Michael, He shot him with a rifle, |
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A product of the cycle. |