Lear: And my poor fool is hanged. No, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more, never, never, never.
Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir.
O, O, O, O.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Switcheroo
Our roofs are scaled our fish our shingled - we get everything from nature .. mostly ... usually ...
Great first line for a poem...
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