heya cometh everyboddeeee! right out of the sleigh: purring like honey from a see-through plastic bag! & the dread, the dead night-cruise drops its beats & sings 'la la la la la la laaaaaaa' like a lidl lamb! hey did i dream all of that? or are we all still here, shouting 'ship to shore' from the top of the stuga? life is a fritidshus that belongs to someone else - but iiiii'm still standing here, in the soupy dimma & that's my dilemma: stay sane, or else go barking up the trunks of unfamiliar trees; well, i think i know which way you'll lean, & so i'll engrave our names on the nearest manhole cover & call it kul, or jul: coz blekinge's wastes hold yesterday's rain & crawl like bereaved remainders of midsomma (& madness
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