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Green, white. Wood wafts westward into my nasal wonder. Beans crack and crumble away to dust As the black lake of broken dreams Boils into blight. Creators crawl the clavier, clawing
She went back to her room where her favorite song was just ending at the best part. The little twinkles that faded with a high D flat that made her emotions fall apart.
A product of immigrants chasing the American Dream Country full of racism and hate, it’s not all glamour and gleam Witnessed dad beating on mom, can still hear her cry and scream Mom was ready to move out with the kids
The smell of roasted beans
Beans, Beans, the magical fruit! No, not that one! Instead of that old classic next line, I prefer to be mute. Beans have protein, they're 2nd to None,