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checkerboard table cloth rippling with the sound of passing freight, bums riding the rails towards who-knows-where, treading carefully on the coals of Hades the teetering totalitarian rule hanging balanced; our hearts yielded to Anubis, let it not be heavy, no, no, against the feather of truth. Oblivion awaits the crestfallen backsliding braggarts on the speeding wagon.
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