Abstract
There's nothing new under the sun, no thunder when he sung in street, no tunes when she returned. Thing is, we need Hun-strength on the run, we need thinner thugs then, no sur render. The sun, us, then nothing. We hush, get neither new nor stunned. Winter hut. Rent. Genes undone. Shh . . . God's shut inn. There-there. New nun, new unthoughts, dinner sneer, the Hun, the hunt, new sting, order seen? the strung nun heeds none whiter. Unsnow the nun. Destring the here. There in the unsung, wonder's then.
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