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[13 Apr 2008|10:33pm] |
Sex is currency. She sells cars, she sells magazines. Addictive bittersweet, clap your hands with the hopeless nicotines. Everyone's a lost romantic since our love became a kissing show. Everyone's a Casanova, come and pass me the mistletoe. Sex is industry, the CEO of corporate policy. Skin-deep ministry, suburban youth hail your so-called liberty. Every advertising antic, our banner waves with a neon glow. War and love become pedantic. We wage love with a mistletoe
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