COMB THE COXSWAIN'S GARDEN
It seems we don't have to comb
the coxswain's garden because he's
not coming home until ten, and his
son will be in the Army by then.
There's nothing left of Buffalo, so
no matter. Little left we can do.
-
Isn't it funny now, how it goes?
The armed forces are all wasted,
and the heroes they hold out to
them are drug-addicted reptilian
fakes. What's a mother to do?
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