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Desk Job (02/21/2013)

Pig's iron, shining on the dead eye's pistol. 
Forged soft in the furnace of Manilla summer nights.
Even Kingpin's dreams can go awry, much like holding a world's weight in sand
worth just as much as you can't seem to hold.

What a miserbale business this is.
Deadening the nerves, overflowing with checks and balances;
Component after component, traded, bought, and sold, for little pieces of us.

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old desk job by-gones malleable wrought ruins blac

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