This game of strip poker has been drug to the morgue. Shed the skin that took you hours to process and toss it to the semen-soaked floor. Just dance! Show us your stuff, lady. They'll go gaga! Claim the snowflake and grab the sand grains. Pyramids have lost their tenets, mummies stripped down and bedecked in severed stuffed animal heads. Desert air tainted in cough syrup pushes the remedial army to some bad romance. You're not qualified to speak for a generation that's already wandering. Seas can't split if the leader is cracking graves of those who aren't even dead. Go ahead, show me your po-po-poker face. I'll call your fucking bluff
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