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Memories Of Home (Ode) by Edna Sweetlove

The house where I was born Stood near to fields of corn But now it's gorn And I'm forlorn. Fuck me, you can't sodding Rely on anything, can you?

Hostileintent 14-Oct-06/4:41 AM
thats the type of thing you would write straight from your head onto a page when drunk. sorry dame edna




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