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when daytime reaches its summit and some up north tan in their sleep
on this, the night of prodigies
when at the stroke of a whistle a roaring pride of orange lions metamorphosed into benign sheep
on this, the night of prodigies - as i was saying - i take my leave.
.
the orient (oh you racist you, how dare you, you neocolonialist swine you) awaits.
.
ta-ta