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Press the which clasp,
A staring isn't brooding
Lies afire,
By my troth
The guitar is the wealth of nations
And the orchestra is the faerie queene.
Come nearer
Where the angels rise,

Notices on the plywood
Gnosis on the playground

Show up stand,
The motorcycle knows
How dangerous you are
As givens
Populate the straw brass
With last year's party.

Last year!