I have two kinds of problems: urgent and important.
Around the block picking up a few knacks, still,
way earlier than Sissypuss, loser, to City on Hill.
Shot shit, talked old tie threads, strategically inveighed.
Wide-berthed chronic whiners who’d been played.
Foot in door of quiet room, cut to chase on tip of tongue.
Package achieved, traction for side bread is buttered on.
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