jazzed

woodsy saxophone crowd murmuring with delight the road less traveled headlights up ahead the cars' wheels' do not see me bats fluttering off dressing to the nines low-brow highfalutin talk bubbles in a flute

wayward

there you go again your tumbleweed thick accent dipped in sugar helping the locals pinpoint just how far from home we are negotiating between parties as if it meant world peace were just around the corner

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