The contract
Turn the handle to the shadowlands Legs will break like shattering glass Settle in to slower pattern ventilation And hit the ground as soon as it shoots back But now I owe, I owe the voices in my head...
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An old motel broad side of the road there aint been a lick of sense the manager hides the lable sighsthrough booking agents and promoter ties The contracts runnin out tonight back to the laundromats...
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Previously on "The L. A. Complex": I'm pregnant. Abby: Are we living together? Guess so. Listen, we're putting together a writing room for a new late night talk show. Hello, Sabrina....
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