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A Fake Hollywood (Free verse) by Blindpoetry
Space is the final piece of land We need more Hollywood Nation Stopped by a dirtry hand Forget about the sea and work on our plantation Dodge this, there is to much work We'll drive slaves station to station Broken tears land on many heads Where are our Hollywood Fantasies? Trains may crash and land on beds But passengers still dream of Fake Tragedies Why is everyone transferring to this cult? We're ditching all of the endless possibilities

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