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Dada taught me cards.Sitting in his suit of pants and vest.A fistful of joker-red hair strewn across his brow.His big belly like a cannon ball.
I was born with a map of Australia on my face;it was beautiful, my mother told me – there was nobody like me in the whole wide worldwho could trace the edges of down under
I spied a small lonely boy.I was his beautiful red balloon,from morning through to noon,
This morning I've got too much energymuch too much for geography
I'm in a high moodso class don't think me crudebut you can stuff latitude and longitude