I’ve seen the end:
Milky once-ocean, and we will call it gravedust pudding,
Hugs up against the last asphalt planar. There are no more white lines,
Just an infinite myriad of quarter-machine bouncy balls to chew on.

I’ve seen the end:
Milky once-ocean, and we will call it gravedust pudding,
Hugs up against the last asphalt planar. There are no more white lines,
Just an infinite myriad of quarter-machine bouncy balls to chew on.

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