When dancing, lost in techno trance, arms failing, gawky bez, then find you snagged on frowns, and slowly dawns, your jazzing to the beep tone, of a life support machine, that marks the steady fading, of your day old baby daughter. And when midnight sirens, lead to blue flash road mash, strechers covered heads, and slippy red maccadm, and find you creeping neth the blankets, to snuggle close a mangled bird, hoping soon you too will be freezer drawed. Then welcome, ooh blue chemothreapy wig, welcome in Jam.
- Mabey I should hurl my self off head first ?
- Just have to do it ten times.
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