i had a dream last night that your fingers
were firecrackers and mine were matchsticks
and the bed was all red white blue total
fourth of july, real sexy you know? i said something
like let me be your civil war drummer and you said
okay only if i can be john wilkes booth’s gun
and that was it, i woke up so twenty twelve
and sad and shitty and alone and hating
the south, i hate the south, i hate the south,
i hate the south.
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