Markelot
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Jan 14, 2013
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    I sit in my cubicle, here on the motherworld.
    When I die, they will put my body in a box and
    dispose of it in the cold ground.
    And in all the million ages to come, I will never
    breathe or laugh or twitch again.
    So won't you run and play with me here among the
    teeming mass of humanity?
    The universe has spared us this moment.