Cold sore

Street lamps for old blankets and Santa steps in, two pints of mothers ruin and let Christmas begin but it’s brass monkeys out there and we’re nice and chill with a gallon of mulled wine on the inside window sill, still it could be worse that poser could be writing another shite verse but they…

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Bathtub gin and Archimedes screws

. We deduct from the equations, strategies and situations and a vacancy arises in the house of few surprises, you apply. don’t know why I never thought before to turn the handle on each door instead of ripping hinges off the walls, but we learn or burn from our mistakes, for some it takes a bit…

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Semi autonomous

Paris gardens and Hogarth’s drawings draw me a picture of sorrow and gin.   So draw me a flagon of dear Mother’s ruin while I sink deeper in sin…

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