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i have no money and i will starve
i have ridden my bicycle up up up into the hills
where i have no hope
i am now riding it down quarries into the creekbed
where the water moccasins scent for bodies
and i only hope to be left for dead
i have come to chop cedar
i am chopping cedar
the dingos become huaraches
and I have become to chop cedar
til the javelinas make sport of my bones
the peccaries at my back
i shoot rattlesnakes and fry their heads
put the machete to moccasins and into the brown sack
and throughout the drought drought no doubt
the mulberry asps fall like rain
the drought will break, the possums will die

say something nice ... or not

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