Story with, mass production. What those devils do not understand – a life consumed by foreign exchange. The pain. The pain? I laugh, maybe I’m insane. Story with. This life, a mind, acute, so cute – filled with a cursed understanding of what is understood. Who am I? A face without a face. Eddie let them know where to go, a mechanically murdered puzzle of fuzz. Oh. I want my money, my ice sliced, spread like honey. Cup life, squared life.
~That Dude Eddie~
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Love and Peace.