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were the king wise he’d see all stars in rooms not onstage acting out flamboyant dooms the linkages of all-empowering thought shall be the versifactor’s humble ought we give thanks for whatsoever dowered the likes of us quite seemly from the showered like a fractal comet’s tail he goes infinitely monitored (who knows?) the empty studio has no lack of interns and the signal blows which way the wind turns |