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Sunset over the Apocalypse 
I started talking to the cat
Then stopped 
People might think me mad

There are no,
Sirens pulling over drunks
 Prostitutes on the prowl
Kids out drinking cody's
Transvestites screaming
"Want some of this baby"
Overseas a princes cheeks are looking Rosie
And Boris's nurses are immigrants. 

The way forward is strange
clouds grey have gone
Future yet be unwritten.

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