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Lets ride bikes up to he corner store, the one that knows both of our names, we can get some beer and then head down to the river. We can go swimming in our underwear and hide out under the bridge. And we can talk about whatever’s on your minds.
Like the government or the weather or religion and the war on drugs or the places you’d like to see, cause I’d love to hear.
Then we’ll ride home soaking wet. Just to scream at my, shitty, beat up, t.v. set. Over Jeopardy; or Baseball games; or the news; or PBS. Or we could sit out side and get little high.
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