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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 07:05:40 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 17486
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Your Game
[time] => 2003-05-13 04:05:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => This is no candyland
I can't see anything that reeks of less than failure You breathe designer air and In fake admiration i seem to want you But why do you make me cross the line between almost sane and manic madness? Can't smile for you with broken teeth Can't wave to you with withered hands So call me with your corgan voice And I'll come to you because with each roll of the dice there comes chance to land in the Pink and we both know I'll always take that gamble because you promise me youll be there. In your eyes, you've already won the game. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 275 [topic] => 6 [informant] => TypenLutschen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => AngryPoetry )
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