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January 15, 2009
Place sometime again, when the chimes be them, heard in rhymes you say, portray it was mine this day. And you do know I love cake, though the greatest in the world I doubtlessly cannot make. Would you mind making some for me, for my sake? I'd be happy as a grind in wake, get back to you sometime in fact, all my rhymes are grime intact, smile like lime inside my whack. HEAD spinning thoughts and ideas twisted like fire, I admire myself and I just rise higher. I wouldn't want to be someone else for the world, still.