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My name is Jeremy, and I am in love with a zombie.
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Every one of them will tell you I drank so much malt liquor I could barf up a distillery and that wouldn’t be a lie.
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Down Hawkling Street, The shadows have come and gone The bar, torn apart from the cold and lonely bullets The lights, they stay awake No more kisses She waits for the empty company A shallow visitor to use and abuse As she walks, they…
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