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cowboy poetry

i love the old melodious lays
here lies a most beautiful lady
very well, you liberals
above them all, looking down
from floor to ceiling
i heard the wind all day
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
perhaps it is no matter that you died
darkest, strangest mystery
just now
let us pity those who are better off than we are
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges

 



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