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2002-08-04 - 6:56 a.m.

There's 12 gates to the city

A 12 gauge for my pity

I refuse to feel sorry for myself

There's much more to me than feeling

It's the walls that raise the ceiling

And I know I can get down from this old shelf

But I coddle my excesses

Go for that thing which impresses

It's a narly tangled root here in my throat

I have ten more drinks to lassenge

See that sweet Vienna sausage?

If she waves at me, I'll surely cross her moat.

But it's just like time in traffic

If I stay here I'll go spastic

Don't you understand there's much more to this entry?!!?

I guess I had you mistaken

For more than Virginia bacon

Perhaps it's better if I act like I'm eccentric.

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