kudos big man you’ve got it
all sown shut no cunt’s doin’ what you’re
doin’ I don’t know what you’re selling but it’s the dog’s bollocks cannot
get enough you should publish
brother you’ll make a fucking mint… another punter gets a free dose and says
he liked it but I’ll never see him
again I don’t really mind but it’s
paying customers I need before I’m weaving shadows and I’m moth-eaten wafer thin
I got papers going back decades they’re worth something to me but
they won’t pay the rent I know
stories that pay off with a kick in
the knackers I stitched them all together on endless reams of pulp I’ll
read you one now for a small
consideration simply grease my pocket I’ll pour moonshine in your ear it won’t taste all that sweet but I promise you won’t care
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