My new character from the new WIP writes a 24-word chorus about how she feels about her ex. Imagine a speed-punk sound welded to a cut-time reggae romp. No? Do your homework.
Twenty-Nine
Deaf dumb and blind heaven, where are you?
Is there a cloud there, not colored blue?
Can I get a bootless note to save me mind?
When will the bootless boy kiss me behind?
davidkrancher.com 
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