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To the stars in the sky, Celebrations in July Something in my eye Sweet potato pie. A birthday in France tattoos of pants, long winded rants, an entire list of cants. Preferred shaken not stirred. Lines not blurred. Milk with no curd. NSA equals bird. Lines made for writing Lips made for biting Fists made for fighting, all while allnighting. I could continue but I digress, lets say its the stress. Lots of unrest. I tried my best... Denise |