From spaceships of harmony

Into the fires of Hell

Mouldy undertaking no more

A trodden mind, angry in the Nut Bar

I need more than seven words, please

Neil Young – grim and grizzled –

Summoned by starship –

Says he can’t go because of his terrible I.B.S.

Drinking tears to dry up the well, pointless

Advertising tissues then.

She wasn’t always fifty ...

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