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It was break of morn.
Birds were singing their yawn.
They weren’t in fur, my Marie.
It fit the feel.
You’re in for the kill.
They wrote it in for Lynn.
Black Ivory Printmaking Club, Muswell Hill
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It was break of morn.
Birds were singing their yawn.
They weren’t in fur, my Marie.
It fit the feel.
You’re in for the kill.
They wrote it in for Lynn.
