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Perfection is inevitable
Folder:
DRUGS N SUCH
I don't know, but I suppose
Everybody must return to their
Normal, respectable characters
After the party's blur is over;
But whether it was ever truly
The drunken echoes of who you
Actually are, that oppresed soul
Withal its haunted yet fondly
Found fingerings lingering, still,
A sour-seed unborn
And so torn between
We greedy beggars,
Explored now and forevermore
The terror between teeth!
