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My 911


Brent Fuller

We return
We come
We cross
Our satin countryside

Fight to ribbons
‘Cross our chests
And how they make us

Why thus I wait
And tune
My senses past your lore

Smashed all the things
I bought with last weeks pay
For all the gore

Put fright aside
And riches
Laid in store

Gone are my rights
My wife
My plight was
Dust and sores

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