any fault of theirs is good
a one wrapped in fives
a surgery for fun
the passed down stay up
a nose
dishes
other things lay down
one time I lost a mortal god a dog soul the fate smell
I knew all haunting was privilege
that a wish can be 3-D
there‘d been grace around and it fell all over
a dick is a thick way to say it
a telephone is a place to reform it
a mother reiterates
we recite
recite
sing
believe ghosts
suppose all kinds of mirrors
heroes are gilded then golden so long
they didn't do anything wrong
I like what they did wrong
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