If the horn was the portal to the heart of the street?
It would deplore the creation of hate and seek the great return of worship.
Feeling like the only cow to give sour cream that is to become one of the old crows, it gave us sounds that make the body shrill with fate and can never be fraudulent.
Blow the horn. Blow the horn.
It is the only real sign.
Have a weedy Wednesday!
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