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So my son decided to pull his pants down in the middle of the gym at that dance... Someone stick a fork in me, I am so done with this day!
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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