Bus Stop

Castred Head Off Sociaty Gated Black Fences
In Captivness With Jaded On lookers Of
Grit a Fool To Chance a Fool To Not Fuel Dehiderated
Vessels Bodied Bured Into The Dead Disco Drive By
On Hand For Bleek Celibration Of Indecent
Uthinasa Fixated Yet Still Traped In With One
Greedy With Absence Of Torn
Vision Push To Elastized By Some Organic Juice
To Drink But Not To Survive
To The Lonly To The Needy
To The Dieing In The Streets


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