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December 2, 2024

If my praise her grace effaces,
Then ’tis not my heart that showeth,
But the skilless tongue that soweth
Words unworthy of her graces.
Tongue, that hath me so betrayed,
Were my heart but here displayed,
Then were sung her fitting praises.

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Thought:

“Dirty Little Stones in Antwerp, who heart darkest?
Red Light District by river boat, I went the farthest“

billy woods | “crawlspace”

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