Don't bother linking me to evidence
Scrapes that make it work again
A deluge of wit and stars
Scars, automobiles and keyboard dirt.
“I know what you know and more”
Said the pimping master to the floor
“Oh, be good to me, my baby”
Put in storage the quips that sacrifice me.
My melodies are monoliths for Easter
Old rebel, black boots, unlaced
You need this, yes you do
Crippled pipelines and twisted phasers.
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