Trim Yr .mid
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i'
ve got a crust forming on the cusp of sanity.
i'
ll wax the lawn growing long on my head.
before i die by the knife that builds the butchers pride.
he'
ll pass a line and tell me i'
m all right.
did you eat enough to slow your roll?
suck out the guts and leave the
shell decompose in your own familiar hell.