A lousy attempt at Dadaism.
The baton of your soul speaks for itself. Your pistol virtually blocks all vengeful elements, like the sharp, piercing stare of your eyes whenever plastic bags of KFC, McDonalds, or a box of Yellow Cab pass by. Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! - the machine exclaims. Your tie dangling from the collar of your prestige says it
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