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Poem 53

Laid down in the usual SOS posture
Nothing can be done, wee one, its undone.
Bunsen burner alarms sounding in the night,
Science scissored The Lord from the sheep.

I am alone we are alone he is alone.

Radio do harm, idea us into rhythm breakage!
Deliver me, deliver my pizza kingdom in 30 or less,
Free owl of Athena to good home.
The temple is bringing isms.

Jason murdered his argonauts with d&d calm.