Fifteen million and one disciples

Oh many, many and many times more have I knelt before the face of God and asked him, why? and many a more time after that watched death do a pirouette across the kitchen floor, what more what more can a man ask why and what for? I return as a yearning in the heart…

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Frayed around the edges

Almost the last one that I have passed on and then when it’s gone? Everything looks metallic men made of tin, robotic Doc’ said, I could be neurotic prescribed me an antibiotic. nothing cures a touch of fantasy better than a dose of reality I take two spoonsful a day, it doesn’t do anything for…

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