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It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
It lies behind starts and under hills,
And empty holes it fills.
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.
Life is like a tin of sardines.
We're, all of us, looking for the key.
-- Beyond the Fringe
If I could stick my pen in my heart,
I would spill it all over the stage.
Would it satisfy ya, would it slide on by ya,
Would you think the boy was strange?
Ai
👹 -- 🎽 -- 😺 -- 💃 -- 🎄 -- 👃 -- 🎫 -- 💄 -- 🚙 -- 👾 -- 🍖 -- 🌽 -- 🐊 -- 👽 -- 🚕