Thursday, June 10, 2010

Privacy Unleashed

They fart, they burp,
They cough, they sneeze,
They smoke, they breathe,
They rot, they sweat.
Goddamn, gotta inhale the same bloody air.
My friends, how on earth is that fair?
Can't you leave troposphere, all for myself,
Without a trace or a smell of thyself?

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