I'd eat a mile of their shit just to lick where it came from
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Indian, Indian what did you die for Indian says, nothing at all. gently they stir gently rise The dead are newborn awakening With ravaged limbs and wet souls Gently they sigh in rapt funeral amazement Who called these dead to dance Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand Was it the wilderness children Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly- Jim Morrison
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