COCK & BALLS POEM | XV accept love as a city with an entangled highway in her hair I hear symbals in the morning I feel szleepy in the evenings a tad guilty but, not kidding, he sang praises to her two ducks somehow in the Ocean, In Fantasy land, where some poets are, cocks like up ta here balls down to molten earth unmanageable mounds forgive me butt, who will get there?
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