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This isn't a welcome mat This is an ancient prayer rug This isn't an apartment This is a palace No chairs; no hats These are thrones These are crowns I am the king of hearts bleeding everywhere Oh, yes it appears I have given myself a lobotomy I’ve fallen off the deck with what is mightier than my sword into a pool of dirty laundry, as hairy as this seems This isn't dancing This is Darwinian growing pains This isn't living This isn’t dying in fashion, this is dying with style
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