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Julian Fane
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Our New Quarters
Two hundred years from now everyone still
alive killing their neighbours just for fresh
water screech siren psycho choirs putting
out wire fires trust kin distrust the rest
don't put it on your chest ships in the
ocean roost laser breath war machines
dropping their ordinance peasant bred
child marines ten to a room and tar paper
windows up chaos in numbers to room
left to lock us all up
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