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Get At Us
Pulp and Circumstance, Juiced.
Call me up. We’ll hang out.
Wading in the reservoir…
A soon to be temporary pleasure…
The echo on the drive back was never met…
A frenzy of bombs and birdcages…
The white boom heads our way…
A pop of soda and a few handclaps…
Electric blue, jugs, all that hoo…
Did not chose him?