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Cornish Hen

Spawning the dead with the night's lilliputians. When I was but a loose nail in a granite garden. But a corpse must grow too dark heights of blue veins and all those lovely things. That tickle the bones of insomnia's cravings. But beware of the caffeine. It keeps one awake with a better dream than yesterday. Spawning the dead with the night's lilliputians. Now, I but a Cornish hen.   


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